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SONGS OF THE SERVICES 



SONGS OF THE 
SERVICES 

ARMY, NAVY AND MARINE CORPS 



BY 



WILL STOKES 

CHIEF YEOMAN, UNITED STATES NAVY 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



><%^ 

■<«% 

A ^»^,^ 



Copyright, 1919, by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 



All rights resemjed 



©CI.A5L2552 

MAR I0I9|9 



CONTENTS 

ARMY POEMS 

PAGE 

A Veteran i 

In Khaki 3 

The Recruit 5 

The Sixty-Ninth to the Front 7 

Bugs 9 

A Little Game OF Poker .12 

Violation of the Thirty-Second 15 

At Camp Upton 17 

Absent Without Leave 19 

An " Orderly " Character 21 

Nellie's Soldier 23 

The Wounds of the Women 25 

The Sailing of the Transport 27 

The Sammies 30 

Little Belgium 32 

Le Poilu 34 

How Private Parker Died 37 

Taps 41 

After Evening Colors 43 

Hints for the Drafted 45 

St. Patrick's Day in the Trenches .... 47 

A Way They Have in the Army 49 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Homesick 51 

The Great Drill Instructor 53 

War News 55 

The Non-Commissioned Officer 57 

Always Ready 60 

Good Resolutions a la Militaire .... 62 

Popular Opinion 65 

The Grooves of Change 68 

The Old Barrack-Room 71 

The Old Regiment, First U. S. Artillery . . 74 

Private Muldoon 78 

A Very Common Case 80 

JuANiTA 82 

Army Blue 85 

The Boys in Blue 87 

BuNKEYS .89 

A Panicky Market gi 

With the Colors 92 

Army Harmony 94 

Old New Haven Green 97 

The Conscientious Objector 99 

A Private Still 102 

Sentry-Go 104 

Private Doodle's Mash 107 

Military Mixed Marriages 109 

La FiLLE Du Regiment 112 

Song 114 

Love in Soldierland 116 

The Tailor Makes the Man 118 

Among the Rioters 120 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Soldier's Love 122 

At Snow-Fly in the Army 125 

A Memory of the Civil War 128 

Decoration Day 130 

The Little Brown Man 132 

Grant 134 

The Ghosts That Ride with Custer . . .136 

The National Flag 139 

A Few of Them 141 

Nathan Hale 145 

The Warders 147 

NAVY AND MARINE CORPS POEMS 

The Navy for Mine 151 

The Salt in the Blood 154 

The Girl Behind the Man Behind the Gun . 156 

The Marines to the Front 158 

The Recruiting Officer 160 

The Corporal o' the Guard 163 

H. B. M. S. " Audacious " 165 

Tom Riley, Seaman, U. S. Navy 167 

Jack Tar 169 

The United States Marine Corps . . . .172 
The Chaplain, United States Navy . . . .175 
The Whitest Pebble ON THE Beach . . . .177 

Summer AT League Island 179 

Song: There are Only a Few of Us Left . . 181 

Jack Ashore 183 

The Great Green Day 185 

Retired 187 



CONTENTS 

PAGB 

The Shifts Ball 189 

Rich Mr. Johnson and Poor Jack Tar . . . 193 

When Nellie Comes on Board 195 

The Great War Game 197 

The Hero 199 

Shore Leave 201 

The International Yacht Race 204 

In Havana Harbor 206 

The Naval Academy Practice Cruise . . . 209 

Christmas in the Navy 212 

The Old Navy 213 

" The Heavenly Twins " 215 

Tom Brown 217 

Naval Critics 219 

Manila Bay 221 

The Marine at Pekin 223 

The Corps at Guantanamo 225 

The Spanish-American War 229 

The U. S. Indiana 231 

The Voyage of Life 234 



ARMY POEMS 



A VETERAN 

AS a wife's eyes fill when some sweet old song 
Brings Love's young dream to mind, 
As a traveler thrills at the thought of home 

And the friends he left behind, 
So leaps my heart when I hear the drums 

And the reg'ment swings in view, 
And I think of the time, of my golden prime, 
When I was a soldier too. 

And while the glittering ranks go past 

I brace up straight and square. 
With a toss of the head like an old troop-horse, 

As I hum the marching air; 
And after dinner that evening sure. 

With an extra glass or two, 
I prattle with wife of my rollicking life 

When I was a soldier too. 

I'm winded now and over the weight, 

And verging on three score. 
And hardly a belt would fit my waist 

In the quartermaster's store; 

I 



A VETERAN 

But nevertheless, in the olden days — 
Let's give the devil his due! 

No likelier lad the regiment had 
When I was a soldier too. 

When I was a soldier? damme, sir, 

I am a soldier still, 
A trifle stiff in the joints, maybe, 

And a bit behind in drill. 
But should the call go out for men 

My place is there with you. 
To march and show our country's foe 

That I am a soldier too. 



IN KHAKI 

NAY, Kate, though sighs and tears were vain, 
Deem not my heart a whit the colder, 
In that I quit thy side again 

To join the Nation's ranks — a soldier; 
For aye, 'mid dangers gathering near 

The star of honor burns the clearer, 
I could not love thee, love, so dear 
Did I not love our country dearer. 

What? — wouldst have me bear the sting 

Of self-contempt and mocking glances, 
Tied to your apron's silken string 

And led around to teas and dances? 
Here, lapped in soft inglorious ease. 

When drums are beating, colors flying, 
When bristling warships scour the seas 

And heroes at the front are dying? 

Ah, sweetheart mine, were I so weak 

As thus forego my manhood's duty. 
How could I e'er presume to seek 

The guerdon of thy worth and beauty? 
3 



IN KHAKI 

None but the brave deserve the fair, 

And barred were I 'gainst love and honor 

To loiter here when sabres bare 
Drip red around the starry banner. 

From old Suwanee's song-lit wave, 

From Shasta's slopes where snowdrifts gather. 
Shoulder to shoulder stand the brave, 

Pine and palmetto ranged together. 
From mill and mine, from town and field, 

From place of pride and lowly station, 
All press around the eagle shield. 

The flower of our united nation. 

Then weep not, dearest; chide no more; 

Too soon, God wot, may fortune darkle, 
And I would crave in this last hour 

Of those fond eyes their bluest sparkle, 
Of those true lips their sweetest kiss. 

And, trust, this heart can never waver, 
In war or peace, in woe or bliss, 

'Tis thine today and thine forever. 



THE RECRUIT 

HE wasn't much to look at when they brought 
him from the plow, 
With various signs an' tokens o' the barnyard an' 

the mow ; 
He was awkward, he was silent, with a vacant sort 

o' stare. 
An' a hump atween his shoulders had no bizness 
to be there. 



But the surgeon tried an' passed him, answerin' 

Uncle Sam's demand. 
Then the set-up sergeant got him an' explained the 

way to stand, 
How to move his head an' arms, how to use his 

legs an' walk, 
An' his comrades in the barricks undertook to 

make him talk. 

Undertook to form his manners — how to cuss an' 

how to lie. 
How to tell by simply tastin' between butter-milk 

an' rye; 

5 



THE RECRUIT 

An' they petted him an' praised him, next they 

jawed an' knocked him down, 
Then they took an' Interdooced him to the ladles 

o' the town. 

An' he brightened up amazin' In his natty, khaki 

suit, 
With a dandy Springfiel' rifle which they showed 

him how to shoot, 
An' they taught him twirl a baynit all around the 

barrick-yard. 
How to lunge an' how to parry, how to thrust an' 

how to guard. 

So, when war's red waves were roarin' as the Ger- 
mans butted West, 

He was there beside the colors with the bravest, 
breast to breast. 

An' the ball that sought him found him, jigglln' 
through his heart it ran, 

In the forefront o' the battle like a reg'lar little 
man. 



THE SIXTY-NINTH TO THE FRONT 

OH, she stood upon the corner as the troops 
marched grandly by, 
With the clang o' arms an' music kindlin' glory in 

her eye, 
An' my heart went thumpin' — jumpin', till I 

hardly trod the ground 
When she smiled an' nodded to me, tho' I dassent 
turn around. 

But the face o' her, the face o' her, 

Went floatin' on before. 
An' the grace o' her, the grace o' her, 

Mo colleen bawn asthore! 

A ringin', swingin' quickstep led the reg'ment 

straight along, 
From winder, roof an' balcony bright flags an' 

buntin' hung, 
An' friendly thousands cheered us, but I only had 

in view 
A snowy bit o' kerchief an' two eyes o' Irish blue. 

7 



THE SIXTY-NINTH TO THE FRONT 

For the sight o' her, the sight o' her, 

Is sweet as heaven to me. 
An' the right to her, the right to her, 

Acushla gal machree! 

An' now the transport's waitin' that will carry us 

to France — 
We Irish are no strangers in that home o' old 

romance, 
For on the shore to welcome us, in spectral, dim 

parade, 
Stand Sarsfield, Clare an' Dillon with the glorious 

Old Brigade, 

Whose martial fame an' cherished name 

Is linked by ev'ry Gael 
With the story an' the glory 

O' the land o' Granu' Aile! 



BUGS 

OH, the genVal raised the devil with the ker- 
nel, so 'tis said, 
About a little hitch in the formation at parade, 
An' the kernel told the major that his handlin' the 

battalion 
Resimbled a soci'ty-man a-Ieadin' a cotilion, 
An' the major hauled the cap'en up about some 

oversight 
Manooverin' the company while breakin' from the 

right. 
An' the cap'en gravely caushun'd the lootenant 

bar' in mind 
To keep the rear rank well closed up an' properly 

alli'ned. 



Oh, them big bugs have bigger bugs 
That jump on 'em an' bite 'em, 

An' the bigger bugs have other bugs 
An' so — ad infinitum. 



BUGS 

The sergeant made a break an' the lootenant col- 
lared him, 

Politely Intlmatin' that he didn't know a dem, 

An' the sergeant soon an error In preservin' dis- 
tance spied 

An' took a shot at Darrlnger, the corp'ril, who 
was guide, 

But Darrlnger said nuthin' — he just waited for 
his chance 

An' promptly gave some scorchin' views on tactics 
to the lance, 

Who opened fire on private Dean for spllln' all the 
wheels 

An' Dean cussed Smith, his rear rank man, for 
steppin' on his heels. 



Oh, them big bugs have bigger bugs 
That jump on 'em an' bite 'em, 

An' the bigger bugs have other bugs 
An' so — ad infinitum. 



'Twas all wound up in barracks when the reg'ment 

was dismissed, 
An' Dean's eye accidentally ran foul o' Smithy's 

fist, 

lO 



BUGS 

An' we stood on chairs an' tables, an' we backed 

'em for the beer, 
While the clamor o' the battle woke the echoes far 

an' near. 
It was jest a rough-an'-tumble but a most Instruc- 

tiv' fight. 
Till the sergeant an' a detail o' the guard marched 

into sight. 
An' they tuk 'em blown an' bloody, an' they locked 

'em in the mill, 
An' — that's all I remimber o' the Big Review an' 

Drill. 

'Cept that big bugs have bigger bugs 
That jump on 'em an' bite 'em, 

An' the bigger bugs have other bugs 
An' so — ad infinitum. 



II 



A LITTLE GAME OF POKER 

AT Spartanburg ol' Bill an' me 
Were sojerln' together, 
I allers stuck to Bill an' he 
Was better 'n a brother. 
We used the same ol' cleanin' kit, 
We chawed the same tobacker, 
Slep' side by side, got full, got tried — 
Oh, nuthin' could be thicker. 

An' so it happened one pay-night 

A dough-boy name o' Keatin', 
Acrost a quiet game o' draw 

Gev' out 'at Bill was cheatin'. 
Bill let him have it with the left. 

Between the eyes it landed, 
An' bruskly sent him off to sleep, 

Severely reprimanded. 

Stan' clear! Squar' off! The friends o' both 

Sailed in to join the tussle. 
No guns or knives as Dagos use 

But good American muscle, 

12 



A LITTLE GAME OF POKER 

Off coat an' at it ! knuckles bare, 

As hard as we were able, 
With here an' there perhaps a chair 

An' here an' there a table. 



Hoop-la ! Hoorah ! But — darn it all ! 

The middle of our fun in — 
" Turn out the guard! " an', double time, 

Some officers cam' runnin'. 
But when they reached us — presto ! change, 

The room was quiet an' airy 
As any proper, well-behaved, 

Young ladies' seminary. 

Magee an' Jones were sound asleep, 

Their noses mashed and bloody, 
Delancey with a broken thumb 

Was deep in tactics study, 
To challenge 'em with doin' wrong 

'Ud be a cruel libel, 
While Sheehan hummed a baby-song 

And Wilson read the Bible. 

We bluffed; but somehow 'twouldn't work. 
The Cap'en wouldn't tak' it, 

13 



A LITTLE GAME OF POKER 

An' to the guard-house half of us 

Went scootin' like a rocket. 
Court martialled? Naw! The Kernel he 

Was such as you'd delight in, 
*' Oh, damn It," says he, *' let 'em be. 

A sojer's trade is fightin'." 



14 



VIOLATION OF THE THIRTY-SECOND 

" Any soldier who absents himself from his troop, battery, com- 
pany, or detachment, without leave from his commanding offi- 
cer, will be punished as a court-martial may direct." — 32d Arti- 
cle of War. 

THE moon shone over the old parade, 
(The sentry walked Post No. 3) 
'Twas after taps and I sought the shade, 

So none of the wakeful guard should see. 
I dodged the sergeant making his round, 

And listened. Intent, 'neath the maple tree. 
Then — out o'er the fence I with a break and a 
bound. 
(And the sentry walked Post No. 3.) 

Oh, sweet Is the face of the fair, full moon, 

(The sentry walked Post No. 3) 
And sweet are the scents of a night In June 

With the breezes flirting along the lea; 
But there, where the rose bush shines with dew, 

The fairest and sweetest of all Is she — 
The lassie with eyes of love-lit blue ! 

(And the sentry walked Post No. 3.) 

15 



VIOLATION OF THE THIRTY-SECOND 

A flutter of skirts In the glamourous night, 

(The sentry walked Post No. 3) 
And my heart flared up like the signal light 

That ships show out on the silent sea. 
A kiss and a word of the boy-god's lore, 

And with fingers twining away walk we, 
With the luminous world of love before. 

(And the sentry walked Post No. 3.) 

In the gray half-light of the glimmering dawn, 

(The sentry walked Post No. 3) 
Through the dew and the chill of the lonely lawn 

I steal into quarters quietly; 
And lo ! with a flurry of shrill delight 

The bugles are blowing the reveille — 
And none Is the wiser! and all is right I 

(And the sentry walked Post No. 3.) 



16 



AT CAMP UPTON 

DRAWN up In line that sunny day, 
I've hearn our ladlfrens to say 
We made a pictur bright an' gay, 

As ever graced an easel ; 
An' oh! their raptures knew no bound, 
When at the bugles' shrilly sound 
We double-timed It o'er the ground 
To " Pop Goes The Weasel." 

What tho' our line was not in plumb. 
What tho' we missed the tuck o' drum, 
Their eyes ht up to see us come, 

In sparklln' blue an' hazel, 
Ignorin' all those little breaks — 
The bumps an' jumps, the quakes an' shakes. 
The steadiest sojer sometimes makes 

In " Pop Goes The Weasel." 

An' truly it was not so bad. 
If you'd excuse that jamb we had 
At the lef ' turn — 'twould rouse, bedad I 
The mirth o' Lady Teazle, 

I? 



AT CAMP UPTON 

As file on file kep' scroogin' In, 
Then bumped an' wrastled back agen 
Jes' like a crazy 'cordian, 

In '' Pop Goes The Weasel/' 

An' passin' by *em in review 
The right gev' an ungodly slew, 
An' Martin druv' his elbow thru' 

My rib bones like a chisel; 
But while some moves were lackln' grace, 
Each boundin' beggar held his place 
An' went the pace with fiamin' face 

Jo " Pop Goes The Weasel." 



L'Envoi 

Later on the lager flows, 

With Susie, Mame, an' Grizel, 
That's the way the money goes, 

*' Pop Goes The Weasel." 



i8 



ABSENT WITHOUT LEAVE 

**TT THAT did ye get, Mac? " 

VY *' Ten an' ten." 
"What for?" 
" Nawthin'." 



Only a row over drink an' a lass, 
Only a day or two over my pass, 
But when I cam' back to the Camp to report, 
They hustled me up to a Summary Court; 
With charges agen me as long as yer arm, 
An' facin' the Cap'en as black as a storm, 
Who heeded my story no more than the wind 
An' ordered the Sergeant to hev' me confined. 

*' Ten days an' ten dollars. Confine him," he 
said. 
Ten days an' ten dollars ! away I was led, 
With blankits an' workin' clothes over the hill. 
An' that's how McCarthy got into the mill. 

By thunder, 'twas rough ! for with quiverin' lip 
I told him my uncle jest died o' the grip, 

19 



ABSENT WITHOUT LEAVE 

How all the McCarthys were there at the wake 
An' I stayed to cheer 'em, for family sake. 
An' then, when the cause of my absence was plain, 
I swore that the like wouldn't happen again, 
I swore I was heart-broken over my fall — 
But sho ! all my eloquence went to the wall. 

** Ten days an' ten dollars. Confine him," he 
said, etc. 

An' here I'm tonight lookin' out thru the bars, 
An' dreamin' o' eyes that knocks spots out o' 

stars; 
Tomorrow will find me with shovel an' pick 
(An' a gun an' a sentinel!) doin' my trick. 
I'm tired, I'm disgusted, I'm sick o' it all, 
I'll buckle the pledge an' go straight up the pole 
An' let licker alone, without word of a lie. 
For the rest o' my life — till the Fourth o' July. 

** Ten days an' ten dollars. Confine him," he 
said, etc. 



20 



AN '' ORDERLY*' CHARACTER 

WE'D been to Boozy Johnson's for to see his 
bull purp fight, 
An' arter it was over we kep' lushln' all the night, 
An' marched to Camp nex' mornin' to the toon o' 

'' Over There " 
An' I for guard that day ! — an' not a button 
clean, I sw'ar! 
Sech tearin' an' sech rearin' 

An' sech swearin' as tuk' place, 
'Ud make me out in print no doubt 
A God-forsaken case. 

I got a belt from Collins, an' an overcoat from 

Greene, 
O'Neil chipped in his rifle, dusted, oiled, an' spot- 
less clean, 
Delaney smoked the brasses an' sez he to me, 

'' or man, 
We'll fix yer up an' durn it ! run for Orderly " — I 
ran. 
Sech rubbin' an' sech grubbin' 

An' sech scrubbin' to get clean, 
The day I ran for Orderly 
Was surely never seen. 

21 



AN "ORDERLY" CHARACTER 

At guard-mount I put up a brace tho' shaky on the 

pins, 
An' summat troubled Innardly 'bout various sojer- 

slns — 
" Inspection Arms ! " an' when he reached me in 

a little while, 
Now what d'ye think? I fetched the bloomin' 
rifle up — old style ! 
The freezin' an' the glarin' 

An' halr-ralsin' sort o' stare, 
The day I ran for Orderly 
The Adjutan' gev' me there. 

*' Guard Right! " an' off we started, an' the band 

began to play, 
But marchin' past 'em In review my legs got kinder 

gay, 
If I could march straight forward may I jolly well 

be — blessed! 
An' arterwards my belts were pulled — the Major 
done the rest. 
An' It's shovelln' an' It's levelin' 

With the Provost I am still, 
The day I ran for Orderly 
They ran me in the mill. 



22 



NELLIE'S SOLDIER 

HE'S wearing the brave khaki hue, 
With a sabre girt on to his side, 
He's gallant and tender and true, 

And has promised to make me his bride. 
My heart's full of love to the brim, 
Its light In my eyes you may see. 
For the pride of my marriage to him 
And the bliss of his marriage to me. 

Oh, the marriage — the marriage — 
A soldier — a soldier Is he ! 
The lady who rides In her carriage 
Might envy my marriage to me. 

With a rose In the dark of my hair 

I wait to receive him at night. 
And he teases for half of my chair, 

Till I nearly fall off with delight; 
But e'er it should happen like that. 

His strong arm about me he slips. 
And before I know what the boy's at 

He's breathing his love on my lips. 

23 



NELLIE'S SOLDIER 

Oh, the marriage — the marriage 
No lovers so happy as we ! 
The lady who rides in her carriage 
Might envy my marriage to me. 

I bring him no fortune In wealth, 

No jewels or laces so fine. 
But the best of good spirits and health. 

And the flower of twenty is mine. 
And he has no miserly hoard, 

No trappings of title or birth. 
But the heart of a man and a sword 

For Columbia, the pride of the earth. 

Oh, the marriage — the marriage 
The bride of a soldier to be ! 
The lady who rides in her carriage 
Might envy my marriage to me. 



24 



THE WOUNDS OF THE WOMEN 

1READ the glowing tales of war, 
With deeds of valor rare, 
In foreign lands of old renown 

And cities rich and fair; 
But clouding o'er the printed page 

A vision meets my glance, 
That robs of all its light and life 
The lovely land of France. 

I see a vineyard swathed in smoke 

And swept with leveled lead, 
A dear loved form Is lying there, 

His life-blood gushing red; 
The rain beats on the strong, brown face 

The eyes are blank and cold, 
And mute for aye the passionate lips 

That late their love-tale told. 

This new Crusade for human right 
Must needs be great and good, 

'Tis blazed with noble sacrifice, 
'Tis sealed with valiant blood; 

25 



THE WOUNDS OF THE WOMEN 

And who would stay the onward march 

Of cause and flag? Not I ! 
Though all my hopes to ashes turned 

The hour that saw him die. 



26 



THE SAILING OF THE TRANSPORT 

A I AHE stores are snugly stowed away, the dock 

JL and decks are clear, 
And like a greyhound in the leash the troopship's 

at the pier, 
There's nothing now remains for us but cast the 

hawser off. 
And leave the land that bore us with a cheer and 

with a laugh. 

'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 
home! 

Tomorrow's sun will find us on the wide Atlan- 
tic foam, 

So kiss your lass and drain your glass e'er far 
abroad you roam, 

'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 
home! 

Old scenes, old haunts, old faces we must quit with- 
out delay, 

And for the fields of Flanders change each well- 
known city way, 

27 



THE SAILING OF THE TRANSPORT 

We leave the genial glass of beer and lashing 

Western breeze 
For stifling trench and turgid river creeping with 

disease. 
'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 

home ! etc. 

About our ears will rise anon the rip of flying lead. 
And men will drop with shirts and bosoms stained 

a glorious red, 
There let them lie, the game's afoot, and 'tis no 

time to stop 
When we have got the false and cruel Boche on 

the hop. 
'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 

home I etc. 

Disease and death's before us, but the flag's before 

us too. 
And who could play the slacker with Old Glory 

in his view? 
This life was quick and pleasant but each dog must 

have his day 
And, damn it, one can not expect to live forever, 

eh? 
'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 

home ! etc. 

28 



THE SAILING OF THE TRANSPORT 

To plunge hip deep in quagmires an^ to cross them 

under fire, 
To storm and sweep the trenches till the last armed 

foes expire, 
Such is the work before us, boys, 'mid fortune's 

pitch and toss. 
But one thing's sure — tho' some may weep, none 

e'er will blush for us. 
'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 

home! etc. 

Henceforth the camp's our homestead, the regi- 
ment is our clan. 

Our sire its gallant colonel, and our brother every 
man. 

Among such valiant hearts and true should we not 
happy feel — 

" Ou peut-on etre mieux qu*au sein de sa famille **? 
'Tis the last night home, boys, the last night 
home I etc. 



29 



THE SAMMIES 

LET me with Private Sammie sit, 
Our glasses with good llcker brightnin' 
An' see his natur' bit by bit 

Flash out In zigzag gleams o' lightning 
Tho' you, sir, might more pleasure find 
With fellers who ha' ben to college, 
I'll tell ye what — he'd beat 'em blind 
In ready wit an' worl'ly knowledge ! 

Let me with Private Sammie live, 

Afield, afloat, or snug in quarters, 
What tho' his gab at times 'ud give 

The shivers to yer wives an' darters, 
Yet many a brain o' nimble parts 

Beneath a private's cap Is hidden. 
An' khaki blouses kiver hearts 

'Ud bust a trace at honor's biddin'. 

Let me with Private Sammie stand. 
When his Old Uncle's foes are comin'. 

An' thro' the cool an' gritty band 

The bullets skip, the dead-march hummin'; 
30 



THE SAMMIES 

His only thought from shame to save 
The silken web that glitters o'er him, 

His sole reward a huddled grave 

An' hell o' course — what else? before him. 

Let me with Private Sammie die, 

Eyes grimly starin' up at heaven. 
While o'er us still the colors fly. 

An' staggerin' back the Huns are driven, 
Drenched with the battle's bloody spray. 

By Yankee wedges cleft asunder, 
Then hide our shattered forms away, 

The trampled turf an' wild-flow' rs under. 



31 



LITTLE BELGIUM 

The Belgac were regarded by the Romans as a very formid- 
able enemy because of their valor. — Ferrero's " Rome," vol. ii^ 
ch. 2. 

"^ ^INCE that far time when Caesar told 
C3 Of GauFs last, desperate stand, 
The waves of war have ever rolled 

Across the Belgian land, 
But blackened hearth and ruined shrine 

And famine's yawning grave, 
Has failed to kill a land and line 

Imperishably brave. 



It felt the Roman legions' tread. 

It faced Attila's horde. 
The viking left its valleys red. 

It met the Spaniard's sword; 
Briton and Frank and Teuton wrenched 

Fair Belgium's heart in war, 
And there in streams of blood was quenched 

Napoleon's fateful star. 



32 



LITTLE BELGIUM 

And now once more it claims a place 

On history's deathless page, 
When 'gainst the perjured Huns outblaze 

The guns of grim Liege ; 
And the old martial spirit speaks 

In no uncertain strain, 
As high on freedom's altar reeks 

The offering of Louvain. 



33 



LE POILU 

IN old Marseilles, that famous town 
To all romancers dear, 
I've watched him saunter gaily down 

The Rue de Canneblere, 
With rakish cap and breeches red, 

A coat of dusty blue. 
And smiling eyes, and nimble tread, 
The jovial French poilu. 



Out flamed the war. The furious Hun 

Slew Belgium in his rage. 
Then hurrying north our bearded one 

Stepped promptly on the stage. 
As if The Maid again had come, 

His shining sword he drew 
For France — for France and Christendom, 

The valiant, bold poilu. 



34 



LE POILU 

Barefoot — barebacked, he asks for naught 

But gunpowder and bread, 
His waking hours with combat fraught, 

The blazing trench his bed. 
Adroit and firm in battle's course, 

With tireless brain and thew, 
He drives a wedge of whirlwind force, 

The headlong, grim poilu. 

He knows the soul of dauntless Joan 

Above him hovers near. 
And knightly Bayard's warrior-tone 

Is sounding in his ear. 
The sun of Austerlitz will burst 

Those Hunnish clouds anew — 
Upon those glorious memories nursed 

Fights on the brave poilu. 

He's here, he's there, he's everywhere 

Along the roaring front 
Where danger threatens, quick to bear 

The shifting battle's brunt. 
The line, sore-pressed, may curve or crack 

And Boches trample through — 
Who fills the breach and hurls them back? 

The ready, stanch poilu. 

3S 



LE POILU 

The Marne's immortal waters saw 

The German dragon's blood, 
At great Verdun — " Ne passerons pas! *' 

And stern as fate he stood. 
Courageous, steadfast, calm, sublime 

He stands in full review 
The greatest soldier of all time, 

The peerless French poilu. 



36 



HOW PRIVATE PARKER DIED 

IN pits scooped from the loose, dry sand 
Or 'neath the rocks we lay, 
Our ready rifles grasped in hand 

The long midsummer day; 
With parching throats and lips aglue, 

For water we had none. 
Though full within our aching view 
A crystal streamlet shone. 

** Water," the wounded faintly moaned, 

But no one dared to stir, 
As crouching near the longed-for ground 

The savage Boches were. 
With wolfish eyes and weapons bent 

To sweep the space between. 
And he who sought the spring-side went 

To certain death, I ween. 

" Water," they cried with piteous moan, 

And lo ! the hero came. 
Hero as grand as e'er hath worn 

The laurel leaves of fame, 

37 



HOW PRIVATE PARKER DIED 

With straight salute and steady step — 

" Lieutenant, let me try 
An' reach the spring; It breaks me up 

To hear those fellers cry." 



A careless scamp from far New York, 

His young face scarred and brown, 
Who drank and swore and hated work — 

A gamin of the town; 
His troublous life the regiment knew, 

Each madcap prank and brawl, 
But In that hour like metal true 

Rang out the hero soul. 

He went; he reached the cool, sweet brook; 

He stooped and filled the can ; 
Then with a bright, dare-devil look 

Back to the lines he ran. 
My God ! the air was winged with lead 

That shrieked and spat and tore. 
Until he staggered, dripping red. 

Into our midst once more. 



Boys, here it is. I guess I spilled 
A trifle as I ran, 

38 



HOW PRIVATE PARKER DIED 

An' never again," he faintly smiled, 
" Will Parker rush the can." 

Then sinking on the crimsoned sand, 
Beside a broken drum, 

The graceless eyes grew filmy and 
The laughing lips were dumb. 



Hard to our aid the Seventh pressed, 

They swept the foe away. 
And then we laid our dead to rest 

By morning's dewy ray. 
Down by the brook a willow's screen 

Checkered the glancing wave. 
And deep its gnarled roots between 

We hollowed Parker's grave. 



We washed the stains where he had bled. 

And smoothed the chestnut hair, 
Then when a few short prayers were said 

We left him sadly there; 
And none beheld the simple rite 

Save we and God on high. 
And, poising in imperial flight, 

An eagle's jewelled eye. 



39 



HOW PRIVATE PARKER DIED 

Somewhere, back home in old New York, 

A mother's head will bend 
In anguish for this dark day's work, 

Her wild one's bloody end; 
And Mamie's merry eyes grow dim 

At mention of his name, 
Whose kisses by the Hudson's brim 

Had touched her lips to flame. 

The lily-buds will bloom in spring 

Beside the soldier's bed, 
The brook in loitering circles sing 

The dirges of the dead. 
The crooning wind in freedom sweep 

Across the silent scene. 
And loyal hearts forever keep 

Plis memory fresh and green. 

I drew the scapular from his breast 

Before we left the bier, 
And in a Sisters' church we passed 

I placed the relic dear; 
Bidding them as with knights of old 

Sing masses for his soul. 
And lift his name in scroll of gold 

To God's great muster roll. 
40 



TAPS 

BENEATH the star-lit, azure sky, 
Now breathing low, now soaring hlgh^ 
Now wandering off, now circling nigh. 
With mournful pause and lapse; 
And floating on the fragrant air, 
Across the fields and meadows fair, 
Under the stars I stand and hear 
The bugler blowing " Taps.'* 

To bed ! — lights out ! and in repose 
The soldier's weary eyelids close. 
Forgetting all this world's woes, 

Its changes and mishaps. 
To dream of home so far away. 
And friends and memories, kind and gay, 
Beloved in boyhood's happy day. 

Oh, welcome then is " Taps." 

Out yonder o'er the neighboring town 
The bugle notes are faintly thrown. 
Where in the noisy, bright saloon 

Some comrades take their " schnapps," 

41 



TAPS 

But at the call stride o'er the floor, 
To halt before they reach the door 
And then return for " just one more '* 
Before they answer " Taps.'' 

Down by the woodland road there strays, 
With whispered words of love and praise, 
A boy in blue who fondly says 

To his sweetheart, perhaps, 
*' Just one more kiss, my Jennie, dear, 
There's no one near to see or hear, 
It is the last, love, do not fear. 

And we will call it ' Taps.' " 

Ah, me ! ah, me ! the days pass by, 
And all the hopes that mounted high 
Like shattered idols round me lie 

In pitiful collapse; 
There's nought but passion, pride and woe 
For us poor mortals here below, 
Till Gabriel's heavenly bugles blow 

The universal " Taps." 



42 



\ 



AFTER EVENING COLORS 

WHEN Sol's red streamers In the west 
Signal'd the day was ended, 
An' when '* Retreat " was sof'ly blown, 
An' Stars an' Stripes came flutterin' down, 
Acrost the fields with daisies sown 
My pathway of'en wended. 

There is a spot, ye know It not, 

Beyond the groanin' city. 
All dusk an' dewy 'neath the trees. 
With hints o' wild-flowers in the breeze, 
A great hang-out o' birds an' bees, 

Likewise o' me an' Kittle. 

An' there the summer long we met, 

We two, alone together. 
An' larned love's puzzlin' A-B-C 
Which I taught her an' she taught me, 
While friendly stars looked on in glee 

An' winked at one another. 

43 



AFTER EVENING COLORS 

But Toosday night I up an' kissed, 

An' asked her was she wlllin'? 
With shy, blue eye she whispered, *' Yes," 
An' we will make a match, I guess, 
'Twere shame to leave so sweet a lass 
For any damned civil'an. 



44 



HINTS FOR THE DRAFTED 

I'M an humble private soldier 
In the pay of Uncle Sam, 
Unbeknown to fame and fortune 

And to newspapers, I am; 
But I want to give my comrades, 

Some directions, curt and plain. 
That will help to keep 'em healthy 
In the coming French campaign. 

When a flag of truce is hoisted 

Where the Boche's trenches lie — 
Sound assembly ! Stand to arms ! 

Grab your gas-masks on the fly! 
For your pluck will soon be tested 

And you'll fancy hell is loose. 
In the close and deadly volleys 

Covered by the flag of truce. 

When the kind expression " Kamerad " 
Leaves a German's smiling lip, 

Let your fingers close instanter 
On the pistol at your hip, 

45 



HINTS FOR THE DRAFTED 

Let your eye nor wink nor waver, 
Or your posture never change 

Till that smiling, friendly Boche 
Is coralled or out of range. 

If you seek a spring of water 

Have emetics close at hand, 
Though you're In a Red Cross shelter 

Guard against the bomb and brand; 
If youVe lying lone and wounded 

On the battle-field apart, 
Cheat a death of Hunnlsh torture — 

Put a bullet in your heart. 

Oh, your nice, good, cultured German 

(Like an Indian) must be dead; 
Better, if he's safely burled 

With a kraut-patch o'er his head; 
Best, resolved to primal gasses 

In the starry deeps of space, 
For this twentieth century world 

Is distinctly not his place. 



46 



ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN THE TRENCHES 

To ray comrades of Irish birth or descent, than whom the 
American Army has no kinder men or braver soldiers. 

^rr^IS " Wearln^ o' the Green '' today, 

X With Erin's flag in emerald splendor 
Outstreaming 'neath the March-sky gray, 

Whose cloudy curtains drift asunder 
When burst the eager sunbeams through, 

To kiss its staff and crown with glory, 
Banner as brave as ever flew 

O'er blazing guns and bayonets gory. 

On Blenheim field it flaunted high. 

O'er old Cremona's gates it glittered. 
Like lightning flared at Fontenoy 

And Britain's pride of arms was shattered; 
Then — stormy petrel of the wars ! 

Across the Western waves It turned 
And now, beside the Stripes and Stars, 

With old-time, martial lustre burned. 

47 



ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN THE TRENCHES 

Fill high your glasses ! comrades mine, 

And while we toast the war-worn banner, 
Let memory's softened radiance shine 

On Erin's homesteads, cot and manor; 
And on the loved ones far away 

By ferny glen and heathered highland, 
May God be with them ! all, today. 

From Mizzen Head to Rathlin Island. 

By ocean's surges girdled 'round, 

From gllst'ning beach to mountain hoary, 
Each crumbling tower and grassy mound 

On history's page has left its story; 
With rivers bright and groves of green, 

The blue skies bending to caress it. 
And hills and winding vales between — 

Brave little Innisfall! God bless it. 



48 



A WAY THEY HAVE IN THE ARMY 

THE soldier loitered by the stile, 
And Nellie veiled her soft blue eye 
For, as she passed, so bold his smile 

She blushed like morning sky. 
Ah, why should soldiers shock poor maids 

Till cheek and brow grow rosy-red? 
Oh, that is a way the Army has — 
That's all that can be said. 

Where blood-wet bayonets crossed and clashed 

Our flag fell in the midst of foes, 
A stripling through the carnage dashed 

And up the old flag rose. 
Why should the youth thus barter life 

For a shattered staff and a silken shred? 
Oh, that is a way the Army has — 

That's all that can be said. 

'Twas in the battle's reel and rock. 

When whole brigades were split apart, 
49 



A WAY THEY HAVE IN THE ARMY 

That springing 'fore his friend Jack took 

A sword thrust In the heart. 
What made one weep with a woman's grief 

O'er him who lay there dumb and dead? 
Oh, that Is a way the Army has — 

That's all that can be said. 

Who hold their love forever dear? 

Who ne'er ally or friend betrayed? 
Whose ringing swords leap forth whene'er 

The Nation needs their aid? 
Gay, gallant, bold; free, loyal, warm; 

Untouched of shame, unknowing dread — 
Aye, that Is a way the Army has — 

That's all that can be said. 



50 



w 



HOMESICK 

AY over here In Europe we're marchin' 
night an' day, 
V-chasIn' Boches up an' down an' earnin' our full 

pay, 

5ut all my thoughts are with my heart an' that is 
far away 
In God's own country an' the blue sky over It. 

V pleasant brook sings by the camp where purple 

lilies gleam, 
rhe sky with floatin', rosy clouds bends o'er us 

like a dream, 
3ut oh ! to see the Hudson's sweep an' plunge into 

Its stream 
In God's own country an' the blue sky over it. 



TIs spring at home — I feel it, an' the fresh, 

sweet-smellln' wind, 
' see the plow rip up the sod, the cautious crows 

behind, 

51 



HOMESICK 

An' the old homestead In the vale with faces fair 
an' kind 
In God's own country an' the blue sky over It. 

They say this war will bring the nation power an* 

fame untold, 
An' world-wide glory — giv' to me the home an' 

friends of old, 
With one sof curl o' Nellie's hair 'gainst lures o' 

fame an' gold, 
In God's own country an' the blue sky over it. 

Should e'er a stranger want to know what flag we 

hold the first. 
Or learn the stock we sprung from and the land 

where we were nursed, 
Then let him hear the songs at night that from 

our bosoms burst 
O' God's own country an' the blue sky over it. 

Our dooties here are manifold, our mission proud 

an' great, 
An' we will do the work o' men whatever be our 

fate. 
But oh ! to be where Liberty is standin' at the gate 
O' God^s own country an' the blue sky over it. 
52 



THE GREAT DRILL INSTRUCTOR 

OH, Sergeant Penn can drill the men 
And hold them well in hand, 
At manual, squad and company- 
He simply beats the band; 
But there's a better teacher far 

War's precepts to impart. 
To plant formations in your brain 
And quick-steps in your heart. 

By some she's called Columbia, 

And Liberty by some. 
While Patriotism is her name 

When sounds the rolling drum. 
Oh, she's the drill instructor ! boys, 

And wanting her strong aid 
We're all but useless lumber when 

The game of war is played. 

With kilted skirts she keeps the step 
Thro' battle's blaze and blight, 

She shares with us the shell-swept trench, 
Or rest-camp for the night; 

53 



THE GREAT DRILL INSTRUCTOR 

She leads the songs, the brave old songs, 
With ringing tones and clear, 

And heart o' love ! the words of home 
She whispers in the ear. 

'Tis she who lifts us, heart and hand, 

Over the top again, 
'Tis she who sheds the glory-light 

Around the battle plain; 
The charging line may quake or break 

But, at her lightest breath, 
With desp'rate cheer our way we clear 

And smiling march to death. 

Aye, Sergeant Penn can drill his men 

To load and fire, and such. 
But I'm afraid without her aid 

Penn wouldn't count for much. 
And generals at the council board 

Would idl} plot and plan, 
But for the spark which she implants 

Within the breast of man. 



54 



WAR NEWS 

I LIKE to read the war news, but — 
The martial spirit dies 
Within me when those Russian names 

Are flashed before my eyes. 
They seem to be the mixture of 

A hiccough and a sneeze — 
Scherschutschin, Przemysl, Koptzyewo, 
Oshwztl, and various " skis.'^ 

I like to read the war news, but — 

A blazing fort or trench 
Has nothing on those barbed-wire words 

I have to face in French. 
They twist my tongue like bayonets 

And undermine my jaws — 
Gembloux, Maubeuge, Sceaux, Dijon, 

The Aisne, the Meuse, and Oise. 

I like to read the war news, but — 
The German hits me rough. 

And when I meet a saw-buck fence 
I need a whole day off, 



WAR NEWS 

With rests and full refreshments, 
While I work my way around — 

Schwarzblatten, Hinterflugelberg, 
Auftallesteufelpfundt. 

Yet, like a true American, 

I never own defeat. 
And glibly mouth those awful words 

To everyone I meet, 
Though if the folk who own the names 

Should hear the sounds I make, 
I'm certain in their righteous wrath 

They'd burn me at the stake. 



56 



THE NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICER 

(With acknowledgments to Rudyard Kipling) 

TAKE Up the non-com's burden — 
The dull, back-breaking load 
Of orders, drills and duties 

That strew your daily road; 
And wait in heavy harness 
On clumsy men and wild. 
Your new-caught, sullen rookies, 
Half hoodlum and half child. 

Take up the non-com's burden — 

In patience to abide. 
To check neglect of duty 

And foster martial pride; 
By open speech and simple, 

A hundred times made plain, 
To seek the soldier's profit 

And work the soldier's gain. 

Take up the non-com's burden — 
Be kindly, be severe, 

57 



THE NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICER 

Be blind to half you notice 
And deaf to half you hear; 

Be comrade, master, servant, 
Be doctor, lawyer, priest. 

At once the freeman of the West 
And despot of the East. 



Take up the non-com's burden — 

The mimic wars of peace — 
Make bright the brain of dulness 

And change unrest to ease; 
And when your goal is nearest, 

The end for others sought. 
See crass official virtue 

Bring all your toil to naught. 



Take up the non-com's burden — 

And bear where'er you go 
Neglect from those above you 

And hate from those below; 
The taunts of " brute " and " sucker," 

The looks of malice black, 
And earn In some engagement 

A bullet In your back. 



58 



THE NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICER 

Oh, some may wear an eagle, 

An oak leaf, or a star. 
And ride with plumes and music 

In fame's triumphal car; 
But sage experience teaches — 

Deny It If you can ! 
The sand that builds the Service 

Is the non-commissioned man. 



59 



ALWAYS READY 

THAT'S our motto, bet yer life! 
Ready night an' mornin', 
Ready for the rush an' strife 

When the powder's burnin'; 
Down whar' orange blossoms blow 

Or through snow-drifts stalkin', 
Jest one word an' off we go 
E'er they've done a-talkin'. 

Sling a knapsack on yer back, 

Whip a belt around ye, 
Grab yer rifle from the rack, 

Hustle up, confound ye. 
In — fall in ! an' forward, march I 

Here — there — anywhere, sir. 
East or West, July or March, 

Devil a hair we care, sir. 

Kids? We hain't got none we know, 
Nor weepin' wives to kiss us. 

If a bullet lays us low 
Ne'er a soul will miss us; 
60 



ALWAYS READY 

Kittle for a while it's true 

Looks a kinder yaller, 
But within a week or two 

Chirps another feller. 

Uncle SamuePs President, 

Likewise his Chief Justus, 
Air the two folks wuth a cent 

Who will dare accost us. 
Home? Our home's beneath that Flag 

Shrined in deathless story, 
An' our business ne'er to lag 

On the road to glory. 



6i 



GOOD RESOLUTIONS A LA MILITAIRE 

WHEN first I enlisted I made up a plan, 
Says I to myself, says I, 
I reckon I'll try and I'll see if I can 

Says I to myself, says I, 
Keep clear of the vices of other young men 
And out of the pitfalls that soldiers fall in, 
And thereby the praise of my officers win, 
Says I to myself, says I. 

I'll never go down to the city at night 

Says I to myself, says I, 
But stay in the camp with the greatest delight. 

Says I to myself, says I ; 
I'll nip in the bud every impulse of evil. 
Be always most dutiful, modest and civil 
And never tell anyone go to the devil. 

Says I to myself, says I. 

Belt, buttons and rifle all perfect will be, 

Says I to myself, says I, 
I'll never miss drill or be marked absentee, 

Says I to myself, says I. 
62 



GOOD RESOLUTIONS A LA MILITAIRE 

Tobacco is vile, so the weed I'll eschew, 
I'll pay up my debts on the day they are due, 
And every Sunday be seen in my pew, 
Says I to myself, says I. 

I've noticed that soldiers are painfully prone. 

Says I to myself, says I, 
To gamble and drink till their pay is all gone, 

Says I to myself, says I, 
But I will not be such a prodigal loon. 
Or chaw about Corbett, Big Jess, or Muldoon — 
Even whistle the air of a Broadway tune, 

Says I to myself, says I. 

Theatres are wicked, the ministers say. 

Says I to myself, says I, 
And dancing leads innocent people astray. 

Says I to myself, says I ; 
I never will handle a cue or a card, 
Say curses, kiss nurses, write verses (that's hardl) 
Or get in the mill for misconduct on guard, 

Says I to myself, says I. 

" Bevare of the vidders," quoth old Mr. Weller, 

Says I to myself, says I, 
But that's not enough, so be cautious, old feller, 

Says I to myself, says I, 

63 



GOOD RESOLUTIONS A LA MILITAIRE 

Of the damsels who bloom with the flowers of the 

spring, 
But, psha ! 'tis absurd to consider the thing, 
No chippie will ever get me on a string, 
Says I to myself, says L 

The demon of liquor — oh ! just wait and see, 

Says I to myself, says I, 
The mauling he'll get if he fools around me, 

Says I to myself, says I ; 
For all a chap wants Is a countenance bold 
And good resolutions which, I have been told, 
Is better by far than bi-chlorlde of gold, 

Says I to myself, says I. 

Twelve Months Later 
(Pianissimo) 

Oh I what an egregious ass you have been, 

I say to myself and sigh. 
With your ** good resolutions '* and sanctified 
mien, 

I murmur and fain would die. 
Just think, for a year, of the life you have led — 
Go, hide your diminished and desolate head, 
And send Mephistopheles here in your stead. 

You thundering fraud! Oh, my I 

64 



POPULAR OPINION 

OH, what's the use o' mincin' things — 'tis 
plain enough to us 
A sojer or a sailor now ain't wuth a darned cuss, 
An' when he joins the Service, be it plainly under- 
stood, 
His name is most emphatically Mud ! — 

Mud! — Mud! 



For when the cannon's silent an' the saber hangs 

at rest, 
An' Uncle Sam's dominions with the sweets o' 

peace are blessed, 
The slippered, smug civilian, sittin' cozily to hum. 
Believes a sojer's nuthin' but a Bum! — 

Bum ! — Bum ! 



Let Mary Ellen's mommer ketch ye sparkin' with 

the lass. 
An' holy Moses! what a stream o' insolence an' 

sass 

65 



POPULAR OPINION 

She'll pelt ye with an' welt ye with before ye can 

decamp, 
The mildest name she gives ye bein' Scamp ! — 

Scamp ! — Scamp ! 

We do not claim admission to the Patriarchangels' 

Ball, 
But when they bar our entrance to a bloomin' 

music hall. 
Because we are In uniform ! — It's time to make a 
kick, 
Such un-American treatment makes me Sick! 

— Sick! — Sick! 

But when the guns are roarin' an' the sabers 

whirl In air, 
The enemy advancin' an' the midnight sky aglare. 
They quickly change the toon an' shout, as to the 

rear they scoot, 
" Lead on our brave defenders! Let 'em Shoot! 

— Shoot! — Shoot!" 

When battle's waves are shattered on a square o' 

Yankee blue. 
Hedged In by bristlln' bayonets adrip with bloody 

dew, 

66 



POPULAR OPINION 

Oh, then, we're " valiant heroes," an' they shake 

us by the paw — 
*' Thermopylae ain't in it, boys ! Hurrah ! 

— 'Rah! — 'Rah I '^ 

To doubt their patriotic boasts may seem a grave 

affront, 
But yet I can't help thinkin', takin' all into account, 
Their " Hail Columbias," " Boys in Blue," an' all 

that other stuff, 
An' love for poor Old Glory's simply Guff ! 

— Guff ! — Guff ! 

An' furthermore, I lay it down as an established 

fact 
Sech treatment shows a woful want o' honesty an' 

tact. 
An' leaves us sadly to infer, with all the fuss they 

make. 
The Great American People is a Fake I 

— Fake I — Fake I 



67 



THE GROOVES OF CHANGE 

Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in Hits. 

IN good old ante-bellum days, 
Before the German scrimmage, 
Our march was laid thro' flowery ways, 

All cakes and ale and cribbage ; 
'Twas cock your cap, embrace your lass, 

Get full as Tarn o* Shanter, 
But now the times are changed, alas. 
Sing tempora mutantur. 

Old times are changed, old manners gone, 
Like arms and ways of Grant or 

Of Wellington and so, my son, 
Sing tempora mutantur. 

To Europe o'er the ocean wide 

The khakl-clad are steering, 
Where surplus fat and white man's hide 

Will soon be disappearing; 
Where bullets buzz as thick as bees 

And death may come instanter 
68 



THE GROOVES OF CHANGE 

From fighting, feeding, fever, fleas — 
Sing tempora mutantur. 



The army dude we used to know 

Has long since left the service, 
And votes the life a bore and low; 

The braggart's mute and nervous; 
The pretty, pink-cheeked soldier-boy, 

The slacker, coward, ranter 
Once more through civil walks deploy, 

Sing tempora mutantur. 

The soldier now, you bet your boots! 

Who's serving with the colors 
Is earning well past all disputes 

His noble thirty dollars. 
No more he'll practice bunk-fatigue, 

Or forth with Mamie saunter. 
No more he'll tap the foaming keg — 

Sing tempora mutantur. 

The sizzling sun lambastes his head, 
The night dews drench his liver. 

Old Mother Earth shakes down his bed 
By trench and oozy river, 

69 



THE GROOVES OF CHANGE 

Instead of chippie-chasing he 

Must after Boches canter, 
And cut his teeth on hardtack, see? 

Sing tempora mutantur. 

The devil take the Huns, say I, 

Who brought us all this trouble, 
And now with midnight drawing nigh 

This verse begins to wabble 
(E'en Homer nods) ; my pipe is cold; 

And emptied yon decanter; 
Ring in the new, ring out the old — 

Sing tempora mutantur. 

Old times are changed, old manners gone, 
Like arms and ways of Grant or 

Of Wellington and so, my son, 
Sing tempora mutantur. 



70 



THE OLD BARRACK-ROOM 

(After Beranger) 

"Brabant le monde et les sots et les sages, 
Sans avenir, riche de mon printemps, 
Leste et joyeux je montais six etages, 

Dans un grenier — qu'on est bien a 'vingt ans" 

AYE, 'tis the place, and little change I see, 
Where in young days I roughed it with the 
rest. 
My chums the mad Monroe, the gallant Lee, 

And Nellie's charms bright-imaged in my breast. 
Laughing at life and fortune's venomed dart. 

Warm in the beams of manhood's rising sun, 
I trod these sounding stairs with lightsome heart 
In the glad days when I was twenty-one. 

'Tis but a barn — a barrack, gaunt and bare. 

But o'er yon cot sleep spreads a downy wing; 
From poker, at the rough oak table there, 

I rose in purse a tramp, in heart a king. 
Come back again, O careless days of yore ! 

O merry nights of wassail, love, and fun ! 
For which I hocked my Elgin o'er and o'er 

In the wild days when I was twenty-one. 
71 



THE OLD BARRACK-ROOM 

And through this pane I see the clump of trees 

Where, after taps, 'neath star-embroidered 
skies, 
I lay upon the moss at Nellie's knees — 

Nell of the sauq?^ lips and snapping eyes. 
Ah, me ! what memories that leafy grove 

Enshrines of prayers, of vows and victories 
won — 
The green confessional of our secret love, 

In the sweet days when I was twenty-one. 

One famous night when Lee, Monroe and I, 

More than half drunk were busy strangling care, 
Dim rumors came of mighty movements nigh, 

Electric whispers tingled all the air. 
We spring erect with sobered ear and eye, 

McKinley's spoken ! — war's at last begun ! — 
The Maine^s dread fate has riven earth and 
sky! — 

In the brave days when I was twenty-one. 



Come, let us go ; the times are out of joint; 

As staid civilians weVe no business here; 
Nay, I forgive you when you smile and point 

To where my lid reveals the tell-tale tear, 
72 



THE OLD BARRACK-ROOM 

A tear for vanished youth, love, jollity, 

And, know ye, all the years I've yet to run, 

All that I am or ever hope to be, 

I'd give for just one week of twenty-one. 



73 



THE OLD REGIMENT, FIRST U. S. 
ARTILLERY 

WHEN ye see the ol' Crossed Cannons wavin' 
proudly In the breeze, 
An' ye hear the crowds a-buzzin' like a hivin' 

swarm o' bees, 
When ye see the rugged faces 'neath their helmets 

shinin' brown. 
An' ye hear their praises chanted by the puttiest 

gals in town. 
When a tape-line drawed from guide to guide 

won't bulge the half an inch, 
When ye hear folks mutter, " Them's the chaps 

'ud help us in a pinch," 
Scrooge to the front an' lif the baby shoulder high 

to see. 
Hats off an' clar yer windpipe — 'tis the Fust 

Artillery ! 

With a hip, hooray! 
Clar' the way! 
Fust Artiller-ee ! 
Regular Arm-ee! 
Whizz — boom — a-ay ! 
74 



THE OLD REGIMENT 

It ain't marines or Infantry that march apast yer 

view, 
Tho' gallant boys I grant ye, all, as ever buttoned 

blue. 
Yet — curious? they hain't got the swing, the 

savvy and the go 
The grand ol' reg'ment's famous for from Frisco 

to Monroe. 
Gee whiz ! It thrills a sojer's heart to see 'em turn 

or wheel. 
The slopin' rifles glancin' in a smooth glacis o' 

steel. 
In sets o' fours or comp'ny front — the cadence ! 

the espree ! 
Sure Ney himself might head them on — the Fust 

Artillery. 

With a hip, hooray, etc. 

Or see 'em work at target drill, 'neath blazin' sum- 
mer suns, 

Jes' switch aroun' hke baseball bats them dlsap- 
pearln' guns 

An' deadly mortars — damme, sir, ten thousand 
yards an' crash! 

They knocked that silly target Into everlastin' 
smash. 

IS 



THE OLD REGIMENT 

An' likewise with their Springfields out in practice 
at the butts, 

They plug the bloomin' bull's-eye every second 
thru' the guts, 

An' when it comes to baynit work, an' makin' 
history, 

There's none can hold a candle to the Fust Ar- 
tillery I 

With a hip, hooray, etc. 

In Eighteen-Twelve their colors waved upon To- 
ronto's wall, 

Down the dark glades o' Florida they druv' the 
Seminole, 

Thro' Montezummy's hoary land beat back the 
stubborn foe 

Until their thunder struck the spires o' stately 
Mexico. 

From Sumpter to Appomattox each glorious field 
o' fame. 

Red planets in the sky o' war, upon their banners 
flame. 

An' at the storm o' San Juan hill the Spaniards' 
jamboree 

Was helped along with music from the Fust Ar- 
tillery. 

With a hip, hooray, etc. 

76 



THE OLD REGIMENT 

They luv' their officers, luv' the service, luv' the 

colors — well. 
They'd waltz behind 01' Glory thro' the grinnin* 

gates o' hell, 
An' when the row was over an' clar'd up the mess 

an' blood, 
Jes' sing, an' growl, an' laugh agen as every sojer 

should ; 
An' soak a curlin' mustash deep in many a foamin' 

Grab hold o' Kittie's dainty waist an' kiss her 

smilin' mug, 
Stan' by a friend or lick a foe, for that's their 

motto — see ? 
Who swing behind the colors o' the Fust Artillery. 

With a hip, hooray, etc. 



77 



PRIVATE MULDOON 

NO doubt, boys, most o' ye have heard 
Me minshun it before, 
No doubt ye have, but, by yer lave, 

I'll tell ye all wanst more; 
An' other men who knew me then 
(Hey, Billy, pass that can) 
Will prove to you I was, all thru, 
A divil of a man. 

Where was the chap to say me no 

In garrison or camp. 
By jabers ! I would sthrip an' die 

Or masecrate the scamp. 
In fun or fight, be day or night. 

My place was in the van. 
An' so, small blame, I got the name — 

A divil of a man. 

The stress an' storm of San Juan Hill, 

I never will forget. 
An' In the fray that glorious day 

I did my bit, you bet. 

78 



PRIVATE MULDOON 

Three captive Dons threw down their guns 

Before me, single-han', 
So all agreed I was Indeed 

A divll of a man. 

An' many's the purty girl around 

My neck her white arms flung, 
But, whist yer sowl ! they're married, all, 

An' I must hould my tongue; 
May joy be yours ! my bunch o' flowers, 

Kate, Bess, and Mary Ann, 
'TIs well ye know I was long 'go 

A dlvU of a man. 

An' dhrlnkin' — what? Whole oceansfull 

O' whiskey an' mixed ale. 
With songs an' tears, an' groans an' cheers, 

For brave Ould Innlsfall; 
An' then the clink — bad luck to dhrlnki 

Next day the sintunce ran, 
" Ten days, for he Is sartalnly 

A dlvU of a man." 



79 



A VERY COMMON CASE 

TWO goodly youths lived side by side 
Within the town of Starr, 
Till one fine day they marched away 
As soldiers to the war. 

Tom, brave and eager, sought the front, 

Where, by and by, he died 
Of fever and I understand 

A bayonet in his side. 

But George (exerting proper " pull ") 

Was detailed to remain. 
Where shot and shell lay thick as hail — 

With th' ammunition train. 

*Tis needless to relate, he lived 
Throughout the Spanish Scare, 

And sauntered home no more to roam, 
Nor much the worse for wear. 

He's wealthy, and a " Colonel " now. 
And famous at the bar; 
80 



A VERY COMMON CASE 

He pulls a string, he runs a ring, 
And lectures on the war. 

But Tom — poor Tom ! who bore the flag 
Up San Juan's slopes of flame, 

His bones are dust, his deeds are rust — 
Forgot his very name. 



8i 



JUANITA 

A Ballad of the Philippines. 

I WAS a maiden, blithe and young, 
In the fair isle of Luzon, 
As happy as the birds that swung 
The greenwood boughs upon. 
Till love came down with golden crown 

And made a queen of me. 
When thro' the glen, six hundred men. 
Rode Lawton's cavalry. 

To free our land from cruel Spain 

My father shed his blood, 
My brothers under arms again 

With Aguinaldo stood. 
And in our home we lived alone 

My mother dear and me, 
When down the glen, six hundred men, 

Rode Lawton's cavalry. 

A soldier sat his gallant bay 
Like a king upon his throne, 
82 



JUANITA 

At one bright glance — O happy day ! — 

My heart was all his own. 
Come friend or foe, come weal or woe, 

He's all the world to me, 
Since down the glen, six hundred men, 

Rode Lawton's cavalry. 



The camp was formed, the pickets set. 

The glade with tents shone white. 
And by the spring at eve we met 

All in the waning light; 
'Twas like a dream for he did seem 

A fair, young god to me. 
When down the glen, six hundred men, 

Rode Lawton's cavalry. 



The moon, sweet regent of the sky. 

Its radiance 'round us flung, 
The words we spoke were strange and shy 

But love knows every tongue ; 
My bosom glowed, my spirit bowed 

In worship at his knee. 
When down the glen, six hundred men. 

Rode Lawton's cavalry. 



83 



JUANITA 

Farewell, my mother, home and friends, 

My country and its cause, 
The love o' woman far extends 

Above all mortal laws. 
To dungeon dim I'd follow him 

And share his destiny, 
Since down the glen, six hundred men, 

Rode Lawton's cavalry. 



84 



ARMY BLUE 

WHEN first I donned the Army Blue 
A-soldiering to go, 
With Youth's aurora kindling new 

The world was all aglow, 
Life's music hummed through every vein, 
Hope's airy touches limned the brain 
With many a splendid castle In Spain 

That now is lying low. 
When first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldlerIng to go. 

When first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldlerIng to go, 
I sought the empty " bubble " too 

Where hostile banners blow; 
But sabre clang and cannon roar 
No longer fright our peaceful shore. 
Hand clasped in hand we meet once more 

Our gallant friends the foe. 
Since first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldiering to go. 

8s 



ARMY BLUE 

Since first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldlerlng to go, 
The brave young comrades that I knew 

Have vanished hke the snow, 
Not one today beside me stands, 
Some wander In far foreign lands, 
And some were laid by loving hands 

Where churchyard grasses grow, 
Since first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldierIng to go. 

When first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldiering to go, 
'Twas then, sweet wife, I found in you 

God's blessing here below — 
Friend and companion, hope and pride, 
By joy endeared, by sorrow tried, 
Till now life's tranquil eventide 

Its lengthening shadows throw, 
Since first I donned the Army Blue 

A-soldiering to go. 



86 



THE BOYS IN BLUE 

OH, we're clothed an' fed by honest Uncle 
Sam, 
We're drilled an' marched an' posted all the year, 

An' every one feels pleasant 

When he gets a little present 
From his Uncle on a pay day for the beer. 
Our numbers ain't imposin' to be sure, 
Jes' five an' seventy thousand is the sum, 

But when there's any trouble 

Ye kin saf'ly count us double, 
An' the other blokes'll wish they stayed to hum. 



Oh, you bet, we're in it, 
Uncle Sam, with you, 
When the guns are boomin' 
An' the crape trade too; 
Tho' yer foes be many 
An' yer friends be few, 
Ye kin always reckon 
On the boys in blue. 

87 



THE BOYS IN BLUE 

We're ready at the President's command, 
An' willin' when he gives the word, to go 

Up to heaven or to hell, In 

Straits o' Fundy or Magellan, 
Fer upholdin' the great doktrine o' Monroe. 
Oh, we'd like to try our chances In the game, 
We'd like to drop our nickel in the slot 

O' them fast an' furious shindies 

Out in Europe or the Indies, 
Yes, there're many things we'd rayther do than 
not. 

Fer, you bet, we're In It, etc. 

The star o' peace Is shinin' o'er the West, 
The swords are sheathed, the battle-flags are 
furled. 

But we'd gladly set 'em rustlin', 

To see Uncle Sammy hustlln' 
Fer the chair among the nations o' the world. 
We're but five an' seventy thousand, as I've said, 
But close beside us stand the ready Guard 

An' musterin' swift behind 'em — 

Oh, ye won't go far to find 'em, 
A million more are bucklin' on the sword! 



Oh, you bet, we're In It, etc. 
88 



BUNKEYS 

O'NEIL an' me goes out together, 
Our time is drawin' nigh. 
We'll be discharged in winter weather 
Great for rock an' rye ! 
For rock an' rye, 
Espeshully rye, 
The winter's great for rock an' rye ! 

Two hundred dollars Jack'll get, 

Two-fifty comes to me. 
We'll pool the piles an' hev, ye bet, 

A glorious jamboree — 

A jamboree, 

A sojer spree, 
A reg'lar genoowine jamboree! 

We've rode together knee to knee 

Thro' many a hike an' fight. 
Where sabers glitter, hully G ! 

Jack's simply out o' sight — 

Jest out o' sight. 

By day or night. 
As chum or sojer out o' sight! 

89 



BUNKEYS 

What'll we do when it's blowed in? 

Waal, now ! What shed we do 
But kiss or Glory's folds again 

An' don a suit of blue? 

A suit o' blue, 

The dear ol' hue — 
The blarsted, brave, audacious blue! 



90 



A PANICKY MARKET 

WHEN Sykes gits tired o' riotin' 
An' slinks back inter the slums, 
When Debs quits wreckin' railway cars 

An' Most explodin' bombs, 
When Dons are doused an' Tagal chiefs 

Are shakin' hands all roun'. 
An' everythin' 's med right agen — 
The price o' sojers 's down! 

But when the Germans run amuck 

An' war Is In the air. 
When Hunlsh shells an' submarines 

Spread ruin everywhere. 
When all that saves yer precious hides 

Is threatnin' fer ter flop. 
An' life ain't worth a pinch o' salt — 

The price o' sojers 's up! ! 



91 



WITH THE COLORS 

DON'T talk to me of city life! 
Its ease and pleasure places — 
The white tents on the mountain spur, 
The breathings of the pine and fir, 
The clang of arms, the martial stir, 
All city joy surpasses. 

Talk not of wives and cozy homes ! 

With children's voices calling — 
Give me the bugle sounding clear. 
The ringing squadron's swift career, 
The solid ranks of foot, and hear 

The drum-beat proudly rolling. 

Off love's sweet, shrinking passion-flower 
We brush the dews of sorrow. 

And woo its perfume, blithe and gay. 

From lips of red or eyes of gray. 

Living and loving here today. 

And God knows where tomorrow. 
92 



WITH THE COLORS 

How wan the tarnished sunbeams seem 

In curtained parlors lying, 
But oh ! the sparks that dart and dance 
On sabre blade and pennoned lance, 
When past the marching columns glance 

With banners bravely flying. 

I'll none of death in some dim room, 

Pale forms around me grieving; 
But let my spirit crack its shell 
And outward soar on battle's swell, 
So, be Its route to heaven or hell. 
This life was worth the living. 



93 



ARMY HARMONY 

*'/^IVE us a song," the troopers cried, 

Vj^ And while the glasses jingled, 
Blake of the Second, flushed with pride. 

From out the squad was singled. 
He sang " The Wearin' of the Green," 

And then for variation 
Brought *' Yankee Doodle " on the scene 

'Mid thund'rous acclamation. 

" Yankee Doodle, you're a brick! 

(So was Napper Tandy) 
Ireland's friend from first to end 

Is Yankee Doodle dandy." 

Fill up again I and Private Graves 

Breathing of beer and glory, 
Wafted " Britannia Rules The Waves " 

Up to the seventh story; 
With lusty lungs we sailed along 

And made the rafters quiver. 
But soon the current of the song 

Flowed into " Swanee River " — 
94 



ARMY HARMONY 

" Way down upon the Swanee ribber, 

Far, far away, 
Dere's wha my heart is turnin' ebber, 

Dere's wha the old folks stay." 

Then " Scots wha hae wl' Wallace bled " 

And " Partant pour la Syrle," 
From Kerr and Jean Laforge were had 

In ringing tones and cheery; 
But Syrian plain and Scottish glen 

Were swept by at a canter. 
To join the ranks of Sherman's men 

Encamped around Atlanta — 

" Hurra ! hurra ! we'll join the jubilee. 
Hurra ! hurra ! the flag that sets you free. 
And so we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea, 
While we were marching thro' Georgia." 

And so the hours to midnight ran, 

With jovial jest and prattle, 
And hymns of many a warrior clan 

On many a field of battle ; 
But, turning from each foreign land. 

The heartiest praise and chorus 
Was thine, O dear Columbia ! and 

The flag that glitters o'er us. 

95 



ARMY HARMONY 

" Tis the star-spangled banner, 
And long may it wave 

O'er the land of the free 
And the home of the brave." 



96 



OLD NEW HAVEN GREEN 

THE balmy breath of summer night 
With fragrance filled the air, 
The moon, a globe of silver light, 

Hung o'er the city fair; 
And seated where the elm trees spread 

Their quiet, leafy screen. 
Our kisses met, our vows were said, 
In old New Haven Green. 



In old New Haven Green, 
That summer night serene 
Was crowned with love from heaven above 
In old New Haven Green. 



But war with all its wild alarms 
Dispelled the sweet romance. 

And at our country's call to arms 
I sailed away to France, 

Where often in the dismal trench, 
A vision bright is seen 

97 



OLD NEW HAVEN GREEN 

Of grassy lawns, a lovers' bench, 
And old New Haven Green. 

In old New Haven Green, etc. 

Should I be spared again to stand 

Upon my native shore, 
I'll seek with loyal heart and hand 

The maid that I adore; 
But should I fall, my dying eyes 

Will close upon a scene 
Of loving vows and tender sighs 

In old New Haven Green. 

In old New Haven Green, 
That summer night serene 
Was crowned with love from heaven above, 
In old New Haven Green. 



98 



THE CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR 

I'M a man with strong convictions of what ought 
and ought not be, 
I am up in jurisprudence, I have read theology, 
And the higher metaphysics, all of which will tend 

to show 
I'm a conscientious soldier in the National Army, 
O. 

The orders from Headquarters, post or general, 

day by day, 
I con them over carefully and then — perhaps — 

obey. 
Consistent with the " still small voice " within me, 

don't ye know, 
I'm a conscientious soldier in the National Army, 

O. 

I do not smoke tobacco and I don't indulge in beer. 
The glance of every female shakes my very soul 
for fear; 

. 99 



THE CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR 

My mind is pure and lofty, my demeanor meek 

and low, 
I'm a conscientious soldier in the National Army, 

O. 



Whatever the command may be I look before I 

leap, 
Move cautiously, if possible upon the matter sleep, 
And probe my feelings gravely e'er I lift a hand or 

toe, 
Tm a conscientious soldier in the National Army, 

O. 

When I'm detailed to go on guard, the chances 

are I may. 
Provided no church festival occurs to bar the way, 
To slight the which were sacrilege and my eternal 

woe, 
I'm a conscientious soldier in the National Army, 

O. 



And should I be locked up and tried then, martyr- 
like, I'll die 

And woe betide my judges! when the Pacifists 
hear my cry, 

100 



THE CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR 

For duty, discipline and rank will fade like flakes 

of snow, 
Tore the conscience of a soldier In the National 

Army, O. 

Though rude, ungodly warfare now lays waste 

this blessed land, 
'TIs very problematical on which side I should 

stand. 
For deep, religious scruples tell me no man is my 

foe, 
I'm a conscientious soldier In the National Army, 

O. 

There are many others like me In the National 

rank and file. 
Elect and chosen vessels, foes to Satan's every 

wile. 
And when we quit the service Into Congress we 

will go. 
As conscientious soldiers of the National Army, O. 



lOI 



A PRIVATE STILL 

THE officers quite justly damn 
The slowness of promotion, 
Creeping from weary grade to grade, 

As hill peeps over hill, 
I deeply sympathize with them 
And share the same emotion, 
For, lo ! with two enlistment stripes 
I am a private still. 

I found the captain yesterday 

In tolerable good humor. 
And told my lengthen'd service, 

My proficiency at drill. 
The rattling scores I ran up 

On the rifle range last summer — 
** Yet here I am, sir, after all, 

A blooming private still." 

The captain looked so gracious 
And so full of creamy kindness, 

102 



A PRIVATE STILL 

My heart was troubled instantly 
With visions of the " mill " — 

*' My man," said he, " you suffer much 
From moral drift and blindness, 

And you are still a private 
For you are a private still.'* 



103 



A 



SENTRY-GO 

(A Memory of the Dog-Days) 

T guard-mount in the mornin' — 'twas as hot 
as blazes then, 
With the sunlight flarin* fiercely on the rifles o' the 

men, 
An' we wilted, an' we tilted as we stood there in 

the ranks, 
An' the Adjutan' he gev' us — gev' us anythin' but 
thanks. 



For it's hot on high, an' it's hot below 
An' it's, " Devil take the weather! " 
Doin' sentry-go. 

Red hot an' still a-heatin, like the Coromandel 

coast, 
As I march at a right-shoulder o'er the limits o' 

my Post, 

104 



i 



SENTRY-GO 

With a step o' thirty inches, head erect an' shoul- 
ders flat, 

An' the waist-belt tightly buckled (they're par- 
ticular o' that). 

For it's hot on high, an' it's hot below 
An' it's, '' Devil take the weather! " 
Doin' sentry-go. 

Bye an' bye I get a visit from the Officer o' the 

Day, 
An' I brace up an' salute him in the regulation way, 
" What's yer Special Orders, sentry? " — as I reel 

'em off, I see 
That the sun has kinder fetched him, pretty much 

the same as me. 



For it's hot on high, an' it's hot below . 
An' it's, '' Devil take the weather! " 
Doin' sentry-go. 

All the meadows are a-twinklin' in the bright an' 

blindin' heat, 
An' the brittle grass is crinklin' 'neath the pressure 

o' my feet, 

105 



SENTRY-GO 

An' my words ain't Sunday-school words, an' my 
thoughts are — well, the chief, 

Is " I wonder what in thunder can be keepin' that 
Relief?" 

For it's hot on high, an' it's hot below 
An' it's, " Devil take the weather! " 
Doin' sentry-go. 



io6 



PRIVATE DOODLE'S MASH 

YOU say a sojer should not wed, 
His life Is such a whirl? 
Well, p'raps; but everyone, bedad, 

'Most allers has a girl. 
An' I hev' one — a daisy ! too — 

Acrost In Jersey City, 
An' don't mind tellln', seein' It's you, 
Her name Is Connor — Kittle. 

Is Kittle pretty? I should smile! 

Why " pretty " don't come near It, 
But If you're disengaged awhile 

An' If you'd care to hear it, 
I'll tell you straight the kind she is 

But, say, e'er I begin It, 
I want you to remember this, 

That you are nowheres In it. 

She's just my size, not very tall, 
But lissom as a willow; 
107 



PRIVATE DOODLE'S MASH 

Her throat is like the flakes that fall 

In foam upon the billow; 
Her eyes *ud shame the jewels' shine 

In Tiff'ny's famous shop, sir; 
Her cheeks are lilies dipped in wine; 

Her mouth — I give it up, sir I 

I give it up, for, holy smokes ! 

How every one 'ud jibe it. 
One o' them blamed artillery blokes 

Attemptin' to describe it. 
When Shakespeare, Bryant, Burns, Moore, 

Who druv' the Muses' tandem, 
'Ud give it up as hopeless, sure, 

An' swar' it was beyond 'em ! 

I went to see her t'other night. 

She must have heard me comin', 
For in the hallway's shaded light, 

or " Comrades " sof'ly hummin', 
She stood; an' that there blessed mouth — 

Well, I ain't no St. Kevin, 
A whisper, wrastle, kiss, — " Git out! " 

I did about eleven. 



io8 



MILITARY MIXED MARRIAGES 

Barrack-room smart society was recently stirred to its pro- 
foundest depths over the marriage of Sergeant Michael J. 
O'Shaughnessy, an Irish Catholic, and Miss Rachel Lillienthal, 
a German Jewess. Enlisted opinion rose high and was about 
equally divided until, in the interests of regimental harmony, I 
was deputed to lay the whole matter for adjudication before that 
skillful and authoritative tactician in love and war, Sergeant 
Major Dan Cupid. 



The Query 

ALACK-A-DAY! how far astray 
You lead us martial wights, Dan, 
We hit the mill for dodging drill 

Or missing " check " o' nights, Dan; 
You tumbled down that Trojan town, 

You marched the Moors to Spain, Dan, 
And but for you Old Ireland too 
Had never worn a chain, Dan. 



109 



MILITARY MIXED MARRIAGES 

Your quips and cranks have thinned our ranks 

And wrought us many an ill, Dan, 
But all the same thro' joy and shame 

We troop your colors still, Dan, 
And though a few Ve deserted you 

And ridiculed your laws, Dan, 
Our bravest men with sword and pen 

Have battled In your cause, Dan. 



But now alas ! a woful pass 

Our loyalty doth try, Dan, 
For 'tis the cry that liberty 

Of conscience you decry, Dan; 
If this be so, we'd like to know 

What faith a loving twain, Dan, 
Should hold if e'er thy minister. 

Sweet Hymen, ends their pain, Dan? 



The Reply 

I can*t deny that sometimes I 
Have shot a shaft amiss, Will, 

But grant me too, what is my due. 
The crown of mortal bliss. Will; 

Bereft of me what misery 
no 



MILITARY MIXED MARRIAGES 

On field and fort would fall, Will — 
If Phoebus' eye should quit the sky 
It would not more appal, Will. 

Anent the row that's started now, 

The faith I most approve. Will, 
Is perfect faith — 'tis Heaven's breath — 

In one and t'other's love, Will; 
Be that assured I pledge my word 

When maid and soldier wed. Will, 
Whate'er their creed they'll never need 

A smile from overhead, Will. 

I rule the Service, horse and foot. 

In all its grades and parts. Will, 
And in the fire of pure desire 

I weld congenial hearts. Will; 
And those who blame religion's name 

Because they can't agree, Will, 
Have neither trust, nor truth, nor faith, 

In Heaven, themselves, or me, Will. 



Ill 



LA FILLE DU REGIMENT 

OH, she quotes from Sahib Kipling 
And she dotes on Captain King, 
Or with merry notes and rippling 

She will pirouette and sing 
Chansonettes and barrack ballads, 

A la p'tite vivandiere, 
She has piercing views on salads, 
Bonnets, barricades and beer. 

And her toilette's quite a picture, 

Though a little bit bizarre. 
With a quaint, elusive mixture 

Of a zouave and huzzar; 
And her dainty foot in falling 

Times the drill instructor's " Hep I " 
Though her dress is surely galling 

At the regulation step. 

As to drill, parade, inspection — 
She's conversant with them all, 

112 



LA FILLE DU REGIMENT 

And she looks with bright affection 

On a military ball; 
For her thoughts are always running 

On the regiments of the line, 
While the Seventh New York is " stunning," 

And the Seventy-First " divine." 

She is up in General Orders 

And with Tactics she can spar, 
And our peace of mind she murders 

With the Articles of War; 
She is posted on promotion — 

All the vacancies to fill. 
And dilates with deep emotion 

On the latest Army Bill. 

But she'll never think of marriage 

With a military man. 
For she scorns a baby-carriage. 

Sewing soldier-buttons on; 
And she cannot darn a stocking, 

She despises keeping house, 
While her plight is something shocking 

At the onslaught of a mouse. 



"3 



SONG 



(( 



FAINT heart ne'er won fair lady/' 
I love the brave old words ; 
They cheer the drooping spirit 

Like the flash of friendly swords. 
Then strong In truth and manhood 

And the love-flame in your soul — 
Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, 
Press onward to the goal. 

** Faint heart ne'er won fair lady/' 
Away with doubts and fears, 

A maiden's troth should ne'er be sought 
With maudlin sighs and tears. 

None but the brave deserve the fair 
From Adam's day till now — 

Faint heart ne'er won fair lady 
And never will, I trow. 

" Faint heart ne'er won fair lady," 
The light of laughing eyes, 
114 



SONG 

The tender kiss of clinging lips 
For valor is the prize; 

The timid, cautious suitor, 
The dull, despondent mind — 

Faint heart ne'er won fair lady - 
Is left, forlorn, behind. 



115 



LOVE IN SOLDIERLAND 

" We love being in love, that's the truth of it." 

— Thackeray. 

IN a frowning old fortress built after a plan 
Of that mettlesome Frenchman, the valiant 
Vauban, 
*Mid the maze and the menace of war's panoply- 
One day in the summer young Love came to me. 

The blare of the bugles, the flashing of steel, 
The tramp of battalions, the cannon's hoarse peal, 
The sentry's sharp challenge from rifle-pierced 

wall — 
He shook his gay ringlets and laughed at them all. 

He breathed in the bugle — and oh ! the sweet 
notes. 

With roses he wreathed the guns' tawny throats; 

The marshalled battalions he summoned, '' Dis- 
miss! " 

And back to my challenge he threw me a kiss. 

ii6 



LOVE IN SOLDIERLAND 

Ah, who could resist him — that fair little boy? 
Now saucy and wayward, now winsome and coy, 
Beguiling and smiling all day in my sight 
And curled in my arms through the watches of 
night. 

God knows how I love it — this grand land of 

mine! 
And the star-jewelled colors that over it shine, 
So, faithful and fond will I shelter and prize 
In the core of my heart this bright waif from the 

skies. 



117 



THE TAILOR MAKES THE MAN 

Herr Dowe, a German tailor, claimed to be the inventor of a 
bullet-proof cloth. 

I'VE often sighed and felt that I'd 
Have won my spurs, some way, 
In days of old when knights were bold 

And barons held their sway. 
Had I a chance to couch a lance 

And fill some knightly vow, 
And now, by gum ! the t'me has come, 
Thanks to the tailor Dowe. 



Your rifles lay in musk away, 

My soldier brothers all, 
The manual too you will eschew, 

With powder, shot and ball; 
For Springfield's bark and Colt's remark, 

And Catling's demmed bow-wow. 
Strikes mortal ear no more with fear. 

Thanks to the tailor Dowe. 
ii8 



THE TAILOR MAKES THE MAN 

Oh, once again to listed plain 

And merrle minstrelsle, 
To ladyes' eyes and high emprise 

And gentU chivalrle, 
We will return with hearts that burn 

For doughty deeds, I trow, 
And hand to hand In combat stand, 

Thanks to the tailor Dowe. 

The good Bilbo and Toledo 

And keen Damascus blade, 
Will lurch and lunge and prod and plunge 

At armor tailor-made. 
And Christian knight on field of fight 

Or 'neath the greenwood bough 
Win glory's bays when he displays 

The shield of tailor Dowe. 



119 



w 



AMONG THE RIOTERS 

'E marched in column down the street — 
the sky was blue and white — 
Magruder was my left-han' man, Adair was on the 

right, 
In heavy marchin' order all, an' evVy ranker wore 
The belt about his middle filled with forty rounds 
an' more. 

From sidewalk, stoop an' winders glared a wild- 
eyed, hootin' throng 

That cussed an' threat'n'd as we strode in sets o' 
fours along. 

With missiles flyin' thru' the ranks from men an' 
women; well. 

It warn't war, it warn't peace — jest plain an' sim- 
ple hell. 

Fitzgerald's cheek from eye to chin was slivered to 

the bone. 
An' Whitney's head laid open by a jagged chunk 

o' stone, 

I20 



AMONG THE RIOTERS 

An' many more; but thru' it all, the bruises, cuts 

and welts. 
We shet our teeth an' kep' the step — with forty 

in our belts I 

Down on the corner some ol' trucks an' cars were 

overthrowed, 
An' thar' they massed, looked ugly, an' med' show 

to bar the road; 
We halted for a moment, then advanced, without a 

shot. 
An' waded in among 'em with the butt, sir — with 

the butt. 

But Lord ha' mercy on their souls! those black- 
browed, foreign men 

Were never since their cradle time so near to death 
as then; 

One word — one short command and oh I my 
faith, they'd sorely rue 

Their insults to the starry flag an' men who wear 
the blue. 



121 



A SOLDIER'S LOVE 

IN love ? Well — yes, if loving means the ne'er 
forgotten bliss 
When rosy lips are baptized in the nectar of a 

kiss, 
When all the world seems dreary if the loved one 

is away. 
But when she's nestling by your side the world is 

bright as May, 
And this is how it came about, if you should care 

to know — 
" Just a song at twilight when the lights are low." 



A dainty, sweet, old-fashioned lay that in the olden 
time 

Was sung by some Crusader on the plains of Pal- 
estine, 

A tender lyric breathing forth the old and oft-told 
tale 

Of hearts that never falter and of hopes that never 
fail, 

122 



A SOLDIER'S LOVE 

A simple ballad, simply writ, of lovers long ago — 
" Just a song at twilight when the lights are low." 

The stars their silver banderolles swung out across 

the stream. 
The perfumed room was silent in the lamp-light's 

softened gleam. 
And as she sung I noticed (there were only she 

and I) 
Her bosom heave and tear-mists cloud the glory 

of her eye. 
Her gentle heart was melted at another lover's 

woe — 
** Just a song at twilight when the lights are low." 

It ended; but the love-notes hung enfettered on the 
air, 

And hope's ethereal brightness dawned upon my 
spirit there, 

Methought the heart this roundelay can so pro- 
foundly move 

Will never be insensible to words of honest love, 

And then — but what I said or did that even I'll 
never know — 

" Just a song at twilight when the lights are low." 



123 



A SOLDIER'S LOVE 

The long dark lashes fluttered down upon her eyes 
sapphire; 

Across the stainless brow outswept a flush of crim- 
son fire ; 

The sweet mouth quivered, startled sighs flew 
heavenward from her breast, 

Awhile she stood in all her charms and virgin love 
confessed. 

Then hid within my circling arms, as hides the 
wounded doe — 

" Just a song at twilight when the lights are low." 



124 



o 



AT SNOW-FLY IN THE ARMY 

H, silently an' purely, like an angel all in 
white, 
It came when we were sleepin' in the darkness o' 

the night; 
It wove acrost the Tyinder panes a dainty bit o' 

screen 
An' on the brown parade ground cast a cloak o' 

silver sheen. 
All this we saw at reveille, an' eyes began to shine 
An' tongues to prattle merrily while fallin' into 

line, 
For, somehow — ain't ye noticed it? a feller's 

spirits rise 
An' sumthin' stirs within him when 

The first 

Snow 

Flies. 

It flirts about yer tinglin' ears, it clings to yer 

mustash. 
An' helps a chap amazin'ly to go a plate o' hash; 

125 



AT SNOW-FLY IN THE ARMY 

While those who ha' been out o' doors their chilly 

fingers blow 
An' say that furs an' overcoats are quite in order 

now. 
It peeks into the rifle barrels, it flecks the saber 

blade, 
An' — blessed day! it means for us the last o' 

dress parade, 
An' in his beer, my bunkey here, a shake o' pepper 

tries — 
He sez he allers does it when 

The first 

Snow 

Flies. 



Those famous gen'rals, Frost an' Snow, have 
druv' us in a mass 

To Stan' around the plottin' board a sorely puz- 
zled class. 

With gunnery an' 'splosives o' the newest kind to 
cope. 

An' wrastle vulgar fracshuns thro' Zalinski's tele- 
scope. 

At quadrant, azmuth circle, lines an' angles we're 
immense, 

126 



AT SNOW-FLY IN THE ARMY 

Tho' frequently all tangled up in things o' common 

sense, 
But with or Christmas marchin' on to greet our 

gladdened eyes, 
We'd tackle Conic Sections ! when 

The first 

Snow 

Flies. 

or Christmas ! what sweet memories you bring o' 

long ago. 
An' o' a quaint New England house half buried in 

the snow, 
Gev' up to sparklin' merriment an' hospitable 

cheer, 
With lads an' lasses gathered there to speed the 

partin' year; 
An' mother, gentle mother, with the love-light in 

her face 
A-beamIn' down on all o' us — God bless the dear 

ol' place ! 
My voice gits husky — cold, I guess, but that ain't 

no surprise, 
I'm often taken that way when 

The first 

Snow 

Flies. 
127 



A MEMORY OF THE CIVIL WAR 

A WHISPERED word, an ardent glance, 
A uniform of blue, 
A sun-browned face, music — a dance, 
A hand that held a soldier's lance — 
No more of me you knew, 

My love ! 
No more of me you knew. 

The bugle call, the trampling march 

To gain the battle plain — 
I left thee by the trellised porch, 
Beside the rose-tree's blooming arch, 

Never to meet again. 
My love ! 

Never to meet again. 

But in the pine woods where we lay 

I saw thy pale, sweet face, 
Thy dewy eyes of Southern gray, 
128 



A MEMORY OF THE CIVIL WAR 

Thy snowy bosom's fitful play 
Beneath the fluttering lace, 

My love ! 
Beneath the fluttering lace. 

IVe lived my life; long years have rolled 

Through time's slow-grinding mill; 
But luminous with the love of old, 
By hearth and home, on wave and wold, 
The vision haunts me still. 

My love ! 
The vision haunts me still. 



129 



/^ 



DECORATION DAY 

IHEV seen the sojers marchin' — marchin^ — 
marchln\ 
Lines on lines o' glistnin' baynlts down the sullen 
South, 
All aflame with song an^ story, 
Side by side the young an' hoary 
Dreamin' dreams o' fame an' glory 
At the cannon's mouth. 

I hev' seen the sojers marchin' — marchin' — 

marchin'. 
Blasted ranks an' riddled colors, homeward from 
the war, 
From the fury an' the fightin' 
Home again, all hearts delightin', 
Victory's haughty eyes uplightin' 
The triumphal car. 

I hev' seen the sojers marchin' — marchin' — 

marchin'. 
Arms revarsed an' banners craped toward the 

churchyard lone, 
130 



DECORATION DAY 

Where the flowers o' spring are peepin* 
O'er the war-worn veterans sleepin', 
An' a grateful nation weepln' 
Mourns its heroes gone. 



131 



THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 

WITH a rag around his belly, 
An* a basket on his head, 
An' a mess o' rice for dinner. 
An' a scrap o' mat for bed. 
An' a yaller cigareeto 

For to puff away his care, 
He has all an' he has nuthin' — 
Like a bloomin' millionaire. 

He's a cross between a Malay, 

An' a Tagal, an' a Don, 
Sech a red-hot mixtur, damme, 

Isn't found the world upon; 
An' his vices which are many 

Bear the old-time Spanish brand. 
While his virtues, where there're any, 

'Most explode as they expand. 

But he's generous an' pollteful 
In his house o' leaves an' twigs, 

He Is fond o' shows an' music. 
An' o' playin' lott'ry gigs. 
132 



THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 

In religion he's a Christian, 
Tho' he holds a private view 

That his little wooden Idols 
Also knows a thing or two. 

He's a jolly little beggar 

If ye only treat him right, 
An' there is no doubt whatever 

He's a good 'un In a fight — 
With a hop an' skip advancin' 

'Twas a sight! to see his jags 
Shootin' off his bows an' arrers 

'Gainst our Maxims an' our Krags. 

So be easy with him, let us. 

Kind o' heart an' calm o' brain, 
Think o' what the poor cuss suffered 

From three hundred years o' Spain. 
Lift him, learn him, an' befriend him, 

An' perhaps some future day 
He will march brigaded with us 

In the scramble for Cathay. 



133 



GRANT 

*^TT TRITE something about Grant,'* said 

VV Kate, 

" There Is a theme of martial glory! 
Of warriors calmly fronting fate. 

Of rushing steeds and sabres gory. 
Sing how the hero steadfast stood. 

To wield the lightning and the thunder, 
Tin staggering thro' a mist of blood 

The furious South went blindly under." 

" Nay, nay," cried gentle Amy, " cease 

That woful tale of strife and passion; 
Say, rather, how he bridged with peace 

The feud that cleft a gallant nation. 
Tell of the statesman and the sage. 

Of Grant the Ruler, kind and simple, 
Who calmed the shrieks of battle-rage 

To songs of love in home and temple." 

" 'Tis not his bright, all-conquering sword," 
Said Mary with the eyes of azure, 
134 



GRANT 

" Nor yet his wit at council-board, 

That stirs my heart with pride and pleasure; 
It is the zealous life, the clear. 

Strong sense of duty radiant In It, 
And moral of his great career — 

The farm, the desk, the camp, the Senate." 

The Palisades' blue shadow hung 

Across old Hudson rolling onward, 
High o'er the cliffs the evening flung 

Its gold and crimson ribbons sunward, 
And by those lips of virgin bloom, 

To guile unknown, with sin untainted. 
Beside the glorious chieftain's tomb, 

His fame was sung, his dirge was chanted. 



135 



THE GHOSTS THAT RIDE WITH 
CUSTER 

I WAS with Reno, fightin' hard an' pressed on 
ev'ry side 
Till Terry came, an' then we larned how Custer's 

men had died; 
An' hastenin' down we saw 'em dead — blank 

eyes an' faces gray. 
An' that red scene will hant me, sure, until my 
dyin' day. 



But you can see no ghosts, not you ! — you had 

no comrade there. 
While I had Clark o' C Troop, little Joe, with 

sunny hair 
An' girlish face, an' eyes an' lips aye full o' smiles 

an' thanks. 
An' I found him nearby Custer where he dropped 

down In the ranks. 



176 



GHOSTS THAT RIDE WITH CUSTER 

The place is thick with dusky shapes an' visions 

all around, 
With gun-smoke trailin' up the hills, dark splashes 

on the ground, 
An 'airy mutterin's in the wind, an' voices like as 

not 
O' those who ride by Custer's side about the 

bloody spot. 

An' on they march, each wind-shod troop, the pur- 
ple midnight thru, 

Now at a walk, now at a trot, like passin' in re- 
view, 

With sabers drawn an' misty banners wavin' over 
all, 

An' moanin' up'ards to the stars a desolate bugle- 
call. 

The phantom sounds o' battle float along the peo- 
pled air. 

Muffled commands, an' shoutin', an' a desp'rate, 
distant cheer. 

An' shudderin' steeds, an' saber gleams, an' pistol 
echoes too. 

An' — God ha' mercy ! down'ard rains a ghastly, 
crimson dew. 

137 



GHOSTS THAT RIDE WITH CUSTER 

When lightnin' spreads o' summer nights its pen- 
nons on the breeze, 

When winter's icy squadrons clatter thru the 
quakin' trees, 

But most o' all in June, in June when the blood-red 
roses blow. 

The troopers ride by Custer's side where the Big 
Horn waters flow. 



138 



THE NATIONAL FLAG 

(A protest against its use for mercenary advertising purposes) 

WHITE of the snow-cap's dazzling hue, 
The crimson streaks of morn, 
A star-set shield of martial blue 

From Heaven empyreal borne — 
Sacred to glory! War-worn flag! 

Loved of the brave and wise, 
No griping huckster e'er shall drag 
Thee from thy native skies. 

O, darling child of victory! 

Through flame-shot, smoky pall. 
Hearts leaped thy meteor course to see 

O'er plain and leaguered wall. 
As forth the rugged regiments poured 

To do thy glorious task — 
Not daubed upon a playhouse board 

In vagabond burlesque. 

On field and foam, o'er rout and wreck, 
Thy stars triumphant shone, 

139 



THE NATIONAL FLAG 

They lit Decatur's roaring deck, 

They blazed where Hull rushed on; 

And shall we that great emblem use — 
It passeth all belief! — 

To fleck the dust from off our shoes, 
A pocket handkerchief. 

Oh, still around the coffined brave 

Lay it with reverent hands, 
Still let it float o'er ocean's wave 

To friends in foreign lands; 
In church and school-house, park and hall, 

Be it with pride displayed. 
But save its blood-stained threads the thrall 

And servile mark of trade. 

Freedom, before thy altar-throne 

Red blood was spilled as wine, 
What time our warrior fathers won 

This sky-born gift of thine. 
Save it ! to wrap thy mighty breast 

When future storms arise. 
Save it, O Goddess ! from the lust 

Of modern Enterprise. 



140 



A FEW OF THEM 

" Not a few military men of brilliant reputations have written 
their names deeper into history with the pen than with the point 
of the sword."— JV. C. Church. 

/^EDANT arma togae, sang old Virgil's epic 

^ muse, 

But long before and since that time some men have 
learned to use 

Alike the stylus and the sword, the cuirass and the 
gown, 

And wreathed both pen and sabre with the gar- 
lands of renown. 

There's soldier Xenophon who tells of his Ten 

Thousand men 
Till we can almost see the Grecian phalanx form 

again, 
And hear his Asian veterans' greeting to the ocean 

flung, 
** Thalatta ! O thalatta ! " in the brave old Attic 

tongue. 



141 



A FEW OF THEM 

And Caesar — god-like Caesar! whose victorious 
eagles flew 

O'er Syrian wastes and Scythian woods and An- 
glian billows blue, 

But from the tented fields of Mars, its glory and 
emprise, 

Hath turned aside to woo a smile from gentle 
Clio's eyes. 

Kings, princes, popes and cardinals, all scribes of 

high degree, 
Have quit the court and cloister for the warrior's 

panoply; 
Yea, saints and doctors of the church have loved 

the " soldier's trade " — 
St. Augustine launched Christendom into a new 

Crusade. 

There's Jonson — rare Ben Jonson ! was a trooper 

brave and leal 
As ever quaffed a cup of sack or jingled spur on 

heel; 
And Scottish James, that squire of dames, showed 

true poetic fire 
Until on fatal Flodden Field lay broken lance and 

lyre. 

142 



A FEW OF THEM 

E'er " Don Quixote" saw the light Cervantes saw 

the star 
That flames on victory's brow along the rugged 

front of war, 
And Raleigh In old London Tower, his dauntless 

banner furled, 
Penned all unaided and alone the " History of the 

World." 



Had sailor Smollett stayed at home content to be 

dry land on. 
This gruff old world had never split Its sides o'er 

"Roderick Random"; 
And dear, delightful, drunken Dick ne'er dreamed 

of 'witching Biddy,^ 
Had he been but plain Mr. Steele, not " Captain 

Richard," maybe. 



And thou, O Bonaparte! the " noblest Roman of 

them all "— 
To France le petit caporal; to Britain ogre, 

ghoul — 

1 Biddy Tipkins, the heroine of Steele's comedy, " The Tender 
Husband." 



A FEW OF THEM 

Who tore the map of Europe up, whose mighty 
mind alone 

O'er anarchy's red ruins reared the Code Napo- 
leon, 



144 



NATHAN HALE 

Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. 

DOOMED as a spy — so young, so fair, 
With fettered limbs and bosom bare. 
He stood in the crisp autumn air 

Beneath the apple bough ; 
While 'round with taunt and ribald jest 
The British red-coats, gloating, pressed. 
But heaven's bright sunshine crowned and kissed, 
His calm, unruffled brow. 

With patriot spirit kindling high 
And proud defiance in his eye. 
To jibe and jeer he makes reply 

(Such words forever live) — 
** My sole regret as here I stand. 
And wait the hangman's shameful hand, 
Is that for my dear native land 

I've but one life to give.'' 

The deed is done. His soul hath flown 
And lo ! o'er Freedom's mountain-throne 

145 



NATHAN HALE 

Another star In lustre shone 

Adown the grooves of time ; 
To cheer for aye the brave of heart 
Who spurn Oppression's cruel smart, 
And rise and rend their chains apart 
In every race and clime. 

And, O Columbia ! mother mine, 
Long may thy shield be freedom's sign, 
Long may thy navies sweep the brine, 

Thy armies hill and vale; 
And when the war-drums loudly peal, 
Nor doubt nor danger cans't thou feel, 
Bulwarked around by hearts of steel 

Like that of Nathan Hale. 



146 



THE WARDERS 

THERE Is no land like our land! 
The broad and rich and strong. 
There are no seas like our seas ! 
That sweep the coasts long. 

Then, Soldiers, keep our native land 

Inviolate and free; 
We, Sailors, pledge ye heart and hand 

To guard the circling sea. 

There are no homes like our homes I 

O'er city, hill and plain, 
Where children lisp the praise of God 

And peace and virtue reign. 

Then, Soldiers, keep our native land, etc. 

There are no maids like our maids ! 

The tender, chaste and fair. 
Whose love reveals the brightest crown 

The brow of man can wear. 

Then, Soldiers, keep our native land, etc. 
147 



THE WARDERS 

There are no men like our men ! 

The simple, true and bold, 
Reaching for right, trampling on wrong, 

As did our sires of old. 

Then, Soldiers, keep our native land 

Inviolate and free, 
We, Sailors, pledge ye heart and hand, 

To guard the circling sea. 



148 



NAVY AND MARINE CORPS POEMS 



Y 



THE NAVY FOR MINE 

OU may talk as you please of the comfort and 
ease 

So desired by the people ashore, 
Of their sumptuous fare, of a carriage and pair. 

With amusement and money galore ; 
But the flash of the sea with the wind blowing free, 

And the health-giving tang of the brine, 
Brings joy to my heart that naught else can impart, 
So the Navy — the Navy for mine ! 



A night at the play is all right In Its way, 

Or a spin in an automobile, 
But all you can name is exceedingly tame 

To your pride as you stand at the wheel 
Of a twelve million ship, on a globe-girdling 
trip — 

Anywhere — from the poles to the line. 
And you feel the quick thrill as she bends to your 
will 

Oh, the Navy — the Navy for mine ! 

151 



THE NAVY FOR MINE 

Afar off the shore hear the ominous roar 

Of the guns ! and the shriek of the shell ! 
As it crashes straight home with a geyser of foam 

Through the target, aimed speedy and well. 
Even so we prepare for the business of war, 

And to guard against German design 
The land of our love and the colors above. 

Oh, the Navy — the Navy for mine I 

They tell me John D. lives on dry toast and tea — 

I pity the poor billionaire. 
What good Is his wealth If he hasn't the health 

To sample the whole bill of fare? 
I'll venture to guess if he saw us at mess 

(For there we decidedly shine) 
He'd burst into tears o'er his gold-grubbing years, 

Oh, the Navy — the Navy for mine ! 

I sigh for the slaves who are digging their graves 

In the dust of the pasty-faced town. 
With a simper or snarl in the money-mad whirl 

Till disease or despair drags them down. 
And my bosom I bare to the lung-cleansing air 

That flows through the body like wine. 
As the billows we cleave with a roll and a heave, 

Oh, the Navy — the Navy for mine ! 
152 



THE NAVY FOR MINE 

In a hammock snow-white, curled up for the night, 

I'm rocked on the breast of the deep, 
And a pair of bright eyes, like twin stars in the 
skies. 

Look lovingly down on my sleep ; 
'Tis Mamie — don't blame me or shame me — 
'tis Mamie^ 

Whose love I will never resign. 
Red lips and soft curls — oh, the sweetest of girls, 

So the Navy — and Mamie for mine ! 



153 



THE SALT IN THE BLOOD 

WHEN the land is swooning in dust and heat 
And the fierce sun clutches each flower and 
tree, 
While the flickering breeze drops dead at my 
feet — 
The town is no place for a man like me. 
My blood cries out to the wind-swept sea, 
The driving hull and the lofty spar, 

With the flash of the foam as it swirls a-lee, 
And hey ! for the deck of a man-o'-war. 



When traffic and gain confounds the street. 

And the smear of gold is on all I see, 
Fouling the Senate and judges' seat — 

The town is no place for a man like me. 

My heart's in tune with the symphony 
Of wind and wave on the ocean far, 

Where the sea birds circle in soaring glee, 
And hey ! for the deck of a man-o'-war. 

154 



THE SALT IN THE BLOOD 

When the ragged pennon of life's defeat 

(Half sullen protest, half craven plea) 
Is trailed o'er the haggard faces I meet — 

The town is no place for a man like me. 

Huzza ! for the shipmate, frank and free, 
'Neath noonday blaze or midnight star, 

Stout heart, clear head, firm hand and knee. 
And hey ! for the deck of a man-o'-war. 

L'Envoi 

With its want, and wealth, and woe, perdie 
The town is no place for a man like me. 
Then ho ! for the billows beyond the bar, 
And hey ! for the deck of a man-o'-war. 



^55 



THE GIRL BEHIND THE MAN BEHIND 

THE GUN 

THE world today Is ringing with our fame, 
Old Glory floats abroad on land and sea, 
Our chiefs receive great honor and acclaim, 

And everything Is right as right can be. 
But let us not forget our stanch ally, 

Who helps us In the fight against the Hun, 
A sweet and modest actor, but a most Important 

factor, 
The girl behind the man behind the gun. 

God bless her blooming Image ! 'tis our star and 

guiding light, 
In the rush and roar of battle and the dreary 

trench at night, 
She's a voice to help and cheer us like a stirring 

bugle call, 
Sure we never win a battle — It Is she who wins 

them all. 

The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world; 
Ah, what Is It that little hand can't do? 

156 



THE GIRL BEHIND THE MAN 

On bloody fields when shot and shell are hurled 
It bears the flag and works the lever too; 

'Tis pointed forward in the press of war, 

'Tis clasped in mercy when the fight is done, 

So by her truth and beauty she incites us to our 
duty, 
The girl behind the man behind the gun. 

And whether in the fleet off Britain's shore 

Or on the plains of Flanders far away, 
In steadfast splendor o'er the clouds of war 

The love o' woman shines upon our way; 
With every crowded transport sent abroad 

A thousand loving hearts are sailing on, 
So stands around the world where our banner 
is unfurled. 

The girl behind the man behind the gun. 

God bless her blooming image ! 'tis our star and 

guiding light, 
In the rush and roar of battle and the dreary 

trench at night. 
She's a voice to help and cheer us like a stirring 

bugle call. 
Sure we never win a battle — it is she who wins 

them all. 

157 



THE MARINES TO THE FRONT 

HURRA! hurra ! weVe off at last 
Upon the road to Europe, 
And whirling eastward far and fast 

To take the boat for Europe; 
Let care to other hearts belong, 
But 'mid this jovial, martial throng 
We level off with jest and song 
The rocky road to Europe. 

In New York bay there lies a ship 

With fires ablaze for Europe, 
And out past Sandy Hook she'll skip, 

Four bells ahead for Europe; 
'' Per mare atque terram '' we 
Our motto proud proclaim to be, 
Soldiers alike on land and sea, 
The ocean wave or Europe. 

On hardtack, corned beef and beans 
We'll fatten up for Europe, 
158 



THE MARINES TO THE FRONT 

And sink such silly submarines 
As bar our way to Europe; 
We'll sing the " Bay of Biscay, O," 
As o'er the waves we gaily go 
To meet, and beat, the common foe 
Of liberty in Europe. 

And when our destined port we find 

Upon the shores of Europe, 
And proudly o'er us on the wind 

Old Glory floats in Europe, 
We'll take our places breast to breast 
With English, French, and all the rest, 
To shear the dragon's bloody crest 
That frights the land of Europe. 

God bless the girls we leave behind 

For rough-and-tumble Europe, 
May they regard with memories kind 
The men who marched to Europe, 
For love extends its gentle sway 
And lights the soldier's rugged way 
" Upon the road to Mandalay,'* 
As on the road to Europe. 



159 



THE RECRUITING OFFICER 

HE stood at the door and doffed his cap, 
A trifle seedy and somewhat nervous, 
But quick as a flash I sized the chap 

As a proper recruit for the Naval service. 
With a friendly nod and a jovial smile 

I civilly rose and bade him enter, 
And like old pals in a little while 
We chatted away at a lively canter. 

Clear eyes, good color, of medium height, 

Thin, with a chin that was square and plucky, 
I thought to myself, " You'll look all right 

In blue on the deck of a ship, my bucky.'* 
And when he inquired of our Navy life. 

Its work and pay, its hopes and chances. 
My wits grew keen as a dago's knife 

And gleamed with nautical facts and fancies. 

I started out upon Naval themes 

With the swing and ease of a Byron canto. 

The Golden Fleece, the Greek triremes, 
Salamis, Actium, and Lepanto. 
1 60 



THE RECRUITING OFFICER 

I sketched Van Tromp and Holland's power 
How Nelson's star blazed on the billow, 

And then exploded a dazzling shower 
Of verbal rockets about Manila. 



But, tho' a dash of romance is fine, 

When youthful blood is keen and glowing, 
Some actual facts, I well opine, 

Are due to make a proper showing; 
And so I handed him out the tale 

Of warship life, its work and duty, 
With sword and gun, with oar and sail. 

All for Columbia, home and beauty. 

I then enlarged on our splendid pay. 

Of golden chances by the million 
For driving a fit of the blues away, 

Unknown to any d civilian. 

I spoke of the grub — ahem, cuisine. 

And presto, change ! within a minute 
I'd conjured up a banquet scene 

That showed the Waldorf wasn't in it. 

Well, well, the lad seemed nothing loth 
To quit his former trade of tailor; 
i6i 



THE RECRUITING OFFICER 

He stripped, and passed, and took the oath, 
And presently stood forth a sailor. 

He's serving now in the fleet — somewhere, 
Floating along in the Navy current, 

With a hand and heart to do and dare, 
And eyes fixed steadily on a warrant. 



162 



THE CORPORAL O' THE GUARD 

THE Cap'n thinks he's quite a few, 
The Fust Luff figgers that way too, 
An' many a proud deck officer 

All golden-barred an' starred, 
An' JImmIe Legs he chucks a bluff, 
But for straight dooty — minus guff. 
The main guy on a man-o'-war 

Is the Corporal o' the Guard. 

It's *' Corporal!" here, an' "Corporal!" there 
An' up an' down an' everywhere, 
From poop to fo'c'sle, front an' rear. 

It's " Corporal o' the Guard!" 

He watches prisoners In the " brig," 
Hunts up a straggler from the gig, 
Corrals a fireman fierce an' big. 

An' loaded like a lord; 
He'll lend a hand to heave the log, 
Or seize a stray, unlicensed *' dog "; 
He's Daddy Daniels 'self Incog — 

The Corporal o' the Guard. 
163 



THE CORPORAL O' THE GUARD 

An' should the vessel be blown up 
He'd march straight aft with steady step, 
Report the fact an' touch his cap — 
The Corporal o' the Guard. 

When things get foul an' out o' trim 
All dodge the blame an' jump on him, 
As if he held the morals prim 

O' every Jack on board; 
He does more dooty night an' day 
Than Legs who gets three times his pay, 
An' does it slicker every way — 

The Corporal o' the Guard. 

Aye, claw yer lug an' screw yer phiz, 
But let me tell ye plainly this, 
O' discipline the back-bone is 

The Corporal — an' the Guard. 



164 



H.B.M.S. AUDACIOUS 

(Torpedoed oflf the Irish coast, 191 5) 

NO trumpet sound was heard around, 
No battle-flags were flying, 
No victor cheers swept o'er their ears 

To soothe the pains of dying, 
But watchful fame on wings of flame 

Hath borne afar their story. 
And ocean's wave above their grave 
Is luminous with glory. 

With naked sword Death stepped aboard 

And grimly took the helm. 
That hour and scene might well, I ween, 

The stoutest hearts overwhelm. 
But British tars with craven fears 

Of Death are never haunted. 
With smiling lip his hand they grip 

Like shipmates long acquainted. 

The lesson taught is richly fraught 
With rare and deep devotion. 

In rushed the flood but each man stood 
Unflinching at his station; 
i6s 



H.B.M.S. AUDACIOUS 

Discipline firm nerved ev'ry arm 
And duty roused their mettle, 

To valor proud as ever glowed 
On crimson field of battle. 

Britannia's brow is clouded now, 

And bathed in dewy splendor 
Her starry eyes, the while she cries 

In prideful tones and tender, 
*' Up, up to Heaven ! with your forbears, 

Trafalgar's brave are waiting 
With those who died by Nile's old tide 

To give their brothers greeting." 



1 66 



TOM RILEY, SEAMAN, U. S. NAVY 

MESELF, I'm Navy; but at times I've done 
some Army work, 
A-hikin' round the Philippines, where death an' 

danger lurk 
From fever, fleas an' cholera, an' onct a Moro's 

knife 
Went jiggin' thro' my ribs in shameful disregard 
o' life. 
An' where was Tommie Riley? 
Where was Riley, did ye say? 
He noticed the occurrence about eighty yards away. 
An' promp'ly dropped that nigger with a bullet in 

the spine, 
An' that's why Tommie Riley is a bosom friend o' 
mine. 



'Twas on the Massachusetts doublin' Hatteras in 

a gale, 
We shipped a waste o' water that would drown a 

sperm whale; 
Knocked silly 'gainst a stanchion I went sluicin' 

overboard, 

167 



TOM RILEY, SEAMAN, U. S. NAVY 

With gugglln^ prayers to Mamie — an' the mercy 

o' the Lord. 
An' where was Tommie Riley? 
Where was Riley, did ye say? 
He jumped right over arter me, as if 'twas only 

play, 
An' held me, limp an' lifeless, 'mid that avalanche 

o' brine. 
An' that's why Tommie Riley is a bosom friend o' 

mine. 

I drink, as sailors shouldn't; an' I fight, as sailors 

should 
When the uniform's Insulted — gee, I socked It to 

'em good ! 
But the coppers stopped the shindy, an' nex' 

mornin' at the mast. 
The charges brought agen me med the captain 
stand aghast. 
An' where was Tommie Riley? 
Where was Riley, did ye say? 
Faith, Riley was my witness an' he proved an 

allbay. 
Like a Prince o' Wales an' shipmate — oh, his 

perjury was fine ! 
An' that's why Tommie Riley is a bosom friend o' 
mine. 

i68 



JACK TAR 

HE has struggled with the bergs around the 
pole, 
He has sweltered In the doldrums at the line, 
The heart beneath his shirt Is fresh and whole. 
Although his face Is pocked with ocean brine. 
From drawing-rooms and teas he steers afar, 

He wasn't built on the aesthetic plan. 
But on the gun deck of a man-o'-war 
He's every Inch a sailor and a man. 

Jack Tar, Jack Tar, you're the man for me, 
By the flag above you ! we are proud of you to- 
day, 
Genial as the sunshine, open as the sea, 
Stalwart as the mainmast — simple, valiant, 

gay. 

Upon the range, he's taught with accents bland 

What guns and calibres obtain at sea. 
In port. It's " Please, Jack, come and try your 
hand 
At coaling ship's delightful mystery.'* 
169 



JACK TAR 

His daily task is holy-stone and sand, 

Or shining brass, or scrubbing down the paint. 
Some folks believe, I'm led to understand, 

A sailor's life's a picnic — well, it ain't. 



We meet him on the bustling city street 

When leave ashore — the precious ! — is his 
due, 
A form of manly vigor, fresh and neat, 

Suggestive of old ocean's breezy blue. 
A willing slave to woman's charms, I wis, 

And sometimes sailing three sheets in the wind, 
But judge him gently, for such folly is 

The immemorial custom of his kind. 



His gallant arm it was that cowed the Dons 

And reaped the glory of Manila Bay, 
And he the first to grapple with the Huns 

And loose our flag in Europe's bloody fray; 
Alert and dauntless for the country's weal 

With jealous eye he keeps the circling sea. 
And rings our wide, unconquered coasts with steel. 

And hence my ditty — Jack's the man for me ! 



170 



JACK TAR 

Jack Tar, Jack Tar, you're the man for me, 
By the flag above you ! we are proud of you to- 
day, 
Genial as the sunshine, open as the sea, 
Stalwart as the mainmast — simple, valiant, 

gay. 



171 



THE UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS 

THE papers print a brief dispatch 
From far, far foreign scenes — 
" American lives and rights to watch 

They've landed the marines." 
That's all; there's little else to tell, 

For wheresoe'er it be 
We'll do the work and do it well — 
The soldiers of the sea. 

While others crouched in trench and cave 

The lines of battle keep, 
We climb the crested ocean wave 

And march along the deep ; 
The lightning's glare, the thunder's crack, 

We never heed — not we, 
But follow down the whirlwind's track — 

The soldiers of the sea. 

At home beneath the southern cross, 
Beneath the polar star, 
172 



THE UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS 

Where'er Old Glory's splendors toss 
Our heart-strings tethered are; 

O'er gunboat or embattled fleet 
Its folds make fair and free 

The inviolate deck beneath our feet — 
The soldiers of the sea. 



With Dewey at Manila Bay 

Our arms in glory shone, 
The morn beheld our war array, 

The night an empire won. 
We snatched from Santiago's flood 

The palm of victory; 
Later, on Pekin's wall we stood — 

The soldiers of the sea. 



Upon the plains of ravaged France 

We met the Kaiser's horde. 
And throttled its accursed advance 

At Chateau-Thierry's ford 
Where, jaws agape, the wolfish pack 

Rushed Paris-ward till we 
Straddled the road and drove it back 

The soldiers of the sea. 



THE UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS 

Sea eagles, circling far and fast, 

We haunt the hostile shore, 
Long e'er the Army's strength is massed 

Our guns begin to roar; 
Foreloopers in the hunt for fame 

We proudly " bear the gree," 
The first to rouse and strike the game — 

The soldiers of the sea. 



174 



THE CHAPLAIN, UNITED STATES 

NAVY 

HE ain't no " fashionable divine," 
Soft-tongued an' velvet-heeled; 
The gun deck grim's his chapel dim, 

The foVsle is his ''field"; 
His " flock " a rough an' restless crew 

Who'd sooner fight than eat, 
But know their friend, constant an' kind, 
The chaplain o' the fleet. 

A war-ship ain't no Sunday-school, 

But where he passes by 
The ribald word no more Is heard, 

Soft grows the graceless eye. 
The toughest cuss with cheery smile 

An' pleasant word he'll greet, 
An' childhood days come when he prays. 

The chaplain o' the fleet. 

The Church will never crown him saint. 
Likewise he'll never get 

175 



THE CHAPLAIN, UNITED STATES NAVY 

No bishop's rate o' pride and state, 

Or cardinal's red hat, 
But all the same we sailors think. 

Since the Apostle Pete 
There's mighty few a marker to 

The chaplain o' the fleet. 

He ain't no " pulpit orator," 

But gets there just the same, 
An' if we make at times a break. 

He ain't, God knows, ter blame. 
He'd give his life ter keep us straight, 

Ter shun vice an' deceit. 
He's the right brand — he's clean, white sand I 

The chaplain o' the fleet. 



176 



THE WHITEST PEBBLE ON THE 
BEACH 

COLUMBIA loves the National Guard, 
Men of the foundry, store and mine, 
Who drop their tools and grip the sword 

Whene'er she forms her battle line. 
A hopeful word, a smiling face, 

A kiss to weeping babe and wife, 
A gray-haired mother's parting grace — 
Then forth to join the nation's strife. 

Columbia loves her Regular men, 

Lavish of life and heroes' blood. 
Who held the front at Amiens when 

The German wrath rolled In full flood. 
Beside the French and British brave, 

All In one glorious cause combined, 
She loves those well who bled to save 

The rights and laws of humankind. 

But closest to the mother-breast 
Is honest, jovial, bold Jack Tar, 

177 



THE WHITEST PEBBLE ON THE BEACH 

By love and wine oft sore oppressed — 
A waif, ashore; afloat, a star! 

With colors o'er the wild waves flung, 

Decks cleared, and stripped beside his gun, 

To hold her coasts, to right her wrong — 
Behold Columbia's darling son ! 



178 



SUMMER AT LEAGUE ISLAND 

THE full-blown trees are posin* 
Like a gal before the glass, 
At the pictures in the river 

O' their rustlin' summer dress, 
While the songbirds' music mingles 

Wi' the music o' the rills. 
An' the honey-suckle's runnin' 
Up the hedges an' the hills. 

Oh, the drillin's fairly killin' 

At them big thirteen-inch guns, 
An' the sweat In Inky creases 

Down our steamin' faces runs. 
But the merry eye o' summer 

Winks an' laughs away our spleen. 
An* — there's Greenlan's Icy mountains 

In the beer, ashore, at e'en. 

A long-drawn thread o' skirmishers 

Is spun acrost the fiel's, 
Deployin' — rallyin' — firln' — 

As it slowly forward steals, 
179 



SUMMER AT LEAGUE ISLAND 

But thro' the blaze o' noonday 
Comes a vision cool an' sweet, 

O' kissin' blue-eyed Kittle 

When the dew is on the wheat. 

The earth Is green an' golden 

An' the sky is blue an' white, 
The butterflies are flitterin' 

On waves o' amber light, 
An' the sun-shafts, diamon'-pointed, 

Pierce the bosom o' the rose, 
Whose blood in spurts o' fragrance 

Over all the garden flows. 

Oh, this world Is bright an' pleasant! 

Oh, this life is clean an' good I 
When the harmonies o' natur 

Are a-tlnglin' in yer blood. 
An' like me ye have yer arm erbout 

A dainty bit o' waist, 
With two roguish eyes to smile at 

An' two cheery lips to taste. 



1 80 



SONG: THERE ARE ONLY A FEW OF 
US LEFT 

WITH laughter we check Father Time In his 
flight 

And the joys of the past we behold, 
At meeting and greeting in union tonight 

The friends and companions of old. 
The men of the trenches, the march, and the fray, 

The comrades of heart and of heft, 
Though memory mournfully leads us to say, 

There are only a few of us left. 

Only a few of us left, boys, 
Only a few of us left, 
A scanty old guard, weather-beaten and scarred, 
There are only a few of us left. 

When youth is in blossom how idly are flung 

Its petals abroad on the hours, 
The sword is our sceptre and wine is our song 

And kisses aplenty are ours. 
i8i 



THERE ARE ONLY A FEW OF US LEFT 

How lightly we laugh while the shuttle of fate 
Flies weaving the warp and the weft, 

Till soon with the evening of life wearing late, 
There are only a few of us left. 

Some fell In the flush of their manhood and pride 

In our quarrel with Spain long ago, 
Some followed the colors to Europe and died 

Where the flowers of Picardy blow; 
And so, through the seasons of sunshine and frost, 

We find ourselves further bereft, 
As hearts that we cherished are gathered to dust, 

There are only a few of us left. 

But fill up your glasses ! and let us give thanks 

For the few — tried and true — who remain ; 
And march, while we close up the gaps In our ranks. 

To the end of life's stirring campaign. 
The sweet love o' woman, a glass and a friend. 

And an obol for Charon's old raft, 
Will comfort us still as we wait for the end. 

There are only a few of us left. 

Only a few of us left, boys, 
Only a few of us left, 
A scanty old guard, weather-beaten and scarred, 
There are only a few of us left. 
182 



'' JACK ASHORE 

WHEN, on leave ashore, ye go 
Gaily o'er the gangway springin', 
With yer pockets full o' dough 

An' the heart within ye singin'. 
Oh, the light o' love that lies 
In yer sweetheart's lips an' eyes 

Leanin' to caress ye. 
Taste the bliss o' paradise 
An' may Heaven bless ye. 



When, on leave ashore, ye go 

An' jes' nacherly git thusty, 
As the streets around ye glow 

In the sunshine hot and dusty, 
That's the time. If feelln' dry, J 
When a glass o' beer or rye 

Hits the spot Inside ye, 
Toss It off ! with jovial eye, 

But — let Prudence guide ye ! 

183 



JACK ASHORE 

When, on leave ashore, ye go, 

Weary o' yer work an' longin' 
For the joys that ebb an' flow 

Where the merry crowds are thronging 
Damn It! man, jump In an' taste 
Every morsel at the feast. 

All the town can send ye 
(Pleasure's flighty at the best) 

An' Good Luck attend ye. 

When, on leave ashore, ye go 

An' the lures o' wine an' woman 
Leave yer pulse still weak an' slow. 

Then, ye snail, ye're less than human. 
Ye're not, surely, built to stand 
Mid the red-blood Navy brand, 

Nature must remake ye. 
Scorned of ocean, let the land 

An' the Devil take ye ! 



184 



THE GREAT GREEN DAY 

An " acknowledgment " of that fighting, far-flung, inex- 
tinguishable tribe whose blood has splashed the battle-grounds 
of the world from Fontenoy to Gettysburg — Cremona, Curunna, 
Cawnpore, Colenso. Good Lord, what a record ! The Irish 
have been the very Arabs of war — wandering, salamandering 
bipeds and seem to have principally existed on (and for) gun- 
powder. 

FROM port and turret gleam the guns, 
O'er decks as white as snow, 
Fair in the sky the colors fly 
With sun and wind aglow; 
But far today my thoughts will stray 

From ship and martial scene, 
As on my breast doth fondly rest 
A little knot of green. 

A little knot of green, 

A ribbon's silken sheen. 
What joy it starts in Irish hearts, 

A little knot of green. 

Through misty eyes before me rise 
Killarney's hills of broom, 
i8s 



THE GREAT GREEN DAY 

The lights that break on glen and lake, 

The hawthorn's milky bloom; 
While o'er the grass my colleen dhas 

Trips down the old boreen — 
God ! what sweet pain it brings again 

That little knot of green. 

A little knot of green, 

Beloved of blithe Aileen, 
Like Cupid's dart it thrills the heart, 

A little knot of green. 

Oh I for a day of battle fray, 

Where ocean breezes blow, 
To grip In fight with Gaelic might 

The ruthless German foe; 
On decks, red-wet, to pay the debt 

Long overdue, I ween, 
While fluttering by Old Glory's side 

Is Ireland's flag of green. 

Old Ireland's flag of green, 

Triumphant and serene, 
Caught and caressed on Freedom's breast, 

Old Ireland's flag of green. 



i86 



RETIRED 

WHEN first I joined the Navy, 
And donned the Navy blue, 
The teeming realms of fancy 
Spread out before my view. 
Each maid bore orb and sceptre, 
Each man was brave and true, 
When first I joined the Navy 
And donned the Navy blue. 



The crystal arch of heaven 

Bent o*er the rolling main, 
Youth's many-tinted mirage 

Made buoyant heart and brain, 
And care fell on me lightly 

As falls the evening dew. 
When first I joined the Navy 

And donned the Navy blue. 

The straming sails above me 
Were spread wings of the swan, 
187 



RETIRED 

And blazoned lists of chivalry 

The decks I trod upon; 
Hope, helm in hand, sailed after 

The Golden Fleece anew, 
When first I joined the Navy 

And donned the Navy blue. 

So youth was spent pursuing 

Those lovely lures and lies — 
Ah, swift is joy's undoing 

The day that we grow wise. 
Alas, that life's red roses 

Should be entwined with rue, 
Since first I joined the Navy 

And donned the Navy blue. 
• ••••• 

Lank jaw and wrinkled visage, 

Stiff joint and crabbed mien, 
A cynic's smile and peery eyes 

Where light and warmth have been; 
To bold romance and errant lance 

And woman's glance — adieu I 
Since first I joined the Navy 

And donned the Navy blue. 



l88 



THE SHIP'S BALL 

WE hung the room with flags an' numbers, 
red, white an' blue, 
With stacks of rifles, stars o' baynits, wreaths an' 

motters too 
O' famous men an' battles, and the deeds Our Ship 

has done 
When the waves rolled red beneath her an' the 

war-clouds hid the sun. 
The floor was scrubbed an' beeswaxed till it flick- 
ered in the light 
O' gas an' China lanterns an' looked simply out o' 

sight. 
For days an' nights we hussled yet I'm driven 

arter all. 
To reekord my opinion that — them women spiles 

a ball. 

The music was attended to by Pete's Italian band, 
Pat Clancy had the bar, an' lots o' eatables on 

hand. 
So when the gran' march started 'twas a sight to 

thrill a queen 

189 



THE SHIP'S BALL 

An' turn the whole Four Hundred with despair an' 

envy green. 
For there was the Marine Corps all in gorgeous 

blue and brass, 
The Army too had tickets, oh, there's nuthin' small 

'bout us, 
An' *' woman, lovely woman," slippers, ribbons, 

flowers an' all, 
But darn yer ** lovely woman " — for it's her as 

spiles a ball. 

At fust the racket hummed along without a hitch 

or quar'l 
Till Brown, a fireman, mozeyed off with yeoman 

Harvey's girl; 
An' Stanley tore Miss Dooley's skirt an' even 

made her weep 
By statin' in apology his lef leg was asleep. 
Then some bruk' ranks an' missed the step an' 

canoned in the ring. 
While ladies lost their tempers an' exclaimed, 

"That awkard thing!" 
An' said that they came there to dance an' didn't 

come to crawl, 
At which their fellers' faces flushed — them 

women spiles a ball. 
190 



THE SHIP'S BALL 

An* there was Mamie Sullivan, as putty as a pink, 
Cut loose from Wilde, the bosun's mate, who had 

a drop o' drink. 
While near the door stood Eisenberg agnawin' his 

mustash 
'Cause Kittie Grant was waltzin' with a sojer 

name o' Nash. 
A dam marine — the gall o' him ! comes up as cool 

as hell 
An' sails away with Ryan's sister, little blue-eyed 

Nell, 
Whom I have stuck to, steady, thro' the summer 

an' the fall, 
But now my name is Dennis — sho I them women 

spiles a ball. 



For sure 'tis aggravatin' when ye fetch yer mash 

along 
To find she's always losin' ye, on puppos. In the 

throng, 
An' when jes' tit for tat ye try to ketch another girl 
Ye run against some feller's fist an' put yer life in 

peril. 
An' when the blow is landed an' the blood begins 

to flow, 

191 



THE SHIP'S BALL 

When lights are doused, with ev'ry prospec* of a 

splendid row, 
They faints dead off or clings to yer, an' " Pleecel 

Fire! Murder! " call, 
An' keeps ye out o' all the fun — them women 

spiles a ball. 

Give me the ol' stag dances ! where ye had a man to 

whirl, 
With handkercher around his arm to show he was 

a girl. 
An' when the waltz or set was done ye passed 

about the jug. 
An' took a pleasant, frien'ly smoke or chaw o' 

juicy plug. 
No bloomin' pride nor jallousy but simply when a 

chap 
Got up upon his dignity, a fair, bare-knuckle scrap 
Where all was free an' welcome, who desired to 

try a fall, 
An' ev'ry feller got his fill — them women spiles 

a ball. 



192 



RICH MR. JOHNSON AND POOR JACK 
TAR 

JOHNSON lives in New York City, 
On the ocean I. 
Johnson dwells within a palace, 

In this forecastle I. 
Johnson's worth ten million dollars. 

Not a sou have I, 
Yet, betwixt us, who's the poorer? 
Johnson, sir. Not I. 

Johnson sups on dainty viands. 

Pork and beans have I. 
Johnson drinks Imported Moet, 

Mine a nip of rye. 
Johnson owns a princely wardrobe. 

One blue suit have I. 
Johnson's ailing, I am hearty. 

Happier man am I. 

Dogged with cares and swamped in riches, 
Johnson heaves a sigh. 

193 



MR. JOHNSON 

Like the sea-breeze whistling 'round me, 

Worries pass me by. 
Conscience pricks, the future threatens, 

Johnson fears to die — 
Here's my hand, Death, come and grip It! 

Shipmates you and I. 

Johnson needs not God or nature, 

Their adorer I, 
Thrilled with color, filled with music, 

Of the sea and sky. 
Calm and tempest, sun and starlight, 

Nature's child am I — 
Soul for soul and state for state. 

Who would change? Not L 



194 



WHEN NELLIE COMES ON BOARD 

WHEN Nellie condescends to come 
And see me on the ship, 
The blue of heaven Is In her eye, 

The rose Is on her lip, 
And In her snowy bosom love 

And truth are fondly stored — 
A proud and happy man am I 
When Nellie comes on board. 



The guns that point from every port 

Seem roguishly to wink, 
The sombre battle-paint around 

To blush a rosy pink ; 
War's visage softens Into smiles. 

Bright myrtle wreathes the sword 
And little Cupid takes the deck 

When Nellie comes on board. 



The light of love Is everywhere 
Though often hid from view, 

195 



WHEN NELLIE COMES ON BOARD 

It sparkles in the wardroom aft 

And on the fo'c'stle too, 
But hke a sun-burst, dazzling bright, 

Its golden beams are poured 
From truck to keelson o'er the ship, 

When Nellie comes on board. 



196 



THE GREAT WAR GAME 

*^TN time of peace prepare for war," 

X And by this prudent maxim guided 
We give the art on sea and shore 

Our thought and interest undivided; 
We probe its problems old and new, 

Its arms and tactics far or near us. 
And even devote deep study to 

The tiny bow and shaft of Eros. 



Oh, cunning shaft ! Oh, wondrous bow ! 

Or winged with joy or strung with sorrow, 
The stoutest armor here below 

Is helpless 'gainst the boy-god's arrow; 
And he who stood 'mid cannons' blaze 

Cool and unmoved at post of duty, 
In quick submission humbly lays 

His laurels at the feet of beauty. 

'Twas so of old when Ilium proud 
For Helen's smile in dust was hurled, 
197 



THE GREAT WAR GAME 

When Antony at Actium bowed 

And bartered for a kiss the world; 
And many a bright romance doth prove 

Today a warrior's heart the same is — 
The olden, golden game of love 

The Army and the Navy game is. 

The gift and grace of woman's heart, 

The touch of loving lips and tender, 
Still holds us fast to honor's part 

On field and foam where'er we wander; 
For her we tempt *' the braes o' fame," 

Beardless cadet and gray professor, 
Our prop and pride the one loved name 

Of mother, sweetheart, wife — God bless her. 



198 



THE HERO 

THEY dined him and they wined him, and 
they kow-towed to the ground, 
rhey blessed him and " addressed " him as they 

were In duty bound, 
rhey cheered him and '* hear, hear ''-ed him like 

sound patriots, but say — 
Vo«j avons change tout cela — he's had his little 
day. 

No more the babies cry for him. 
Their elder sisters sigh for him. 
Their mammas christen pie for him, 
Or Bobbie shouts, *' Hoo-ray." 

Vnd now they feel indignant as they pass him on 

the street, 
^nd underneath his toga note the large and clayey 

feet, 
rhey know he conquered — Thingumbob, and 

captured — What's-Its-name, 
3ut lo! a common derby has replaced the halo's 

flame. 

199 



THE HERO 

No more cigars are named for him, 
No lithographs are framed for him, 
No breakfast foods are claimed for him 
And such is mortal fame. 



200 



SHORE LEAVE 

OVER the gangway! over the gangway! 
All hands going ashore. 
And when we reach the blooming beach 

We'll make the welkin roar! 
Neptune — adieu; fair Bacchus, you 

And Venus we adore ; 
Over the gangway ! over the gangway 1 
All hands going ashore. 

Two hundred hale and hearty lads 

Lined on the quarter deck, 
In uniforms of Navy blue 

Without a crease or speck; 
To find their equals man for man 

You'd roam the country wide, 
A stirring sight and one to fill 

A patriot's breast with pride. 

Over the gangway, etc. 



201 



SHORE LEAVE 

Through many a long sea-watch, while stars 

Were shimmering on the foam, 
Our hearts were filled with visions bright 

And tender dreams of home, 
And lo ! the hour has come at last, 

The joys that fancy wove. 
So, clear the decks! and here's The Sex 

All sailors dearly love. 

Over the gangway, etc. 

Poor, lungless landsmen grope their way 

Through city dust and grime. 
Full-chested we with ocean air 

And bronzed by every clime; 
Their jaded senses, sickly grown, 

All healthy pleasures cloy, 
While we with bounding youth and health 

Are ripe for every joy. 

Over the gangway, etc. 

Our ship's a beauty! stanch and swift, 
And framed for war's grim test; 

Our officers good men and true, 
A captain of the best; 

202 



SHORE LEAVE 

Our march is o'er the mountain wave, 

Our home the bright blue sea, 
And high In air the flag we bear — 

Oh, a sailor's life for me ! 

Over the gangway, etc. 



203 



THE INTERNATIONAL YACHT RACE 

OH, yes, Tom Brown and I were there, 
With yachting suits and our college shout, 
And glasses to see it fair and square, 

And a flash or two to help us out. 
So when the gun gave warning loud. 

While cheers and whistles were skyward sent, 
We sprung on the taffrail, gripping a shroud, 
As over the line away they went. 

Blue was the sky and blue the sea. 

Crisp and fresh was the headlong wind. 
And the foam-dust swirled away to lee. 

Flung from their dainty heels behind; 
With the mainsail, top and headsails spread — 

Oh, every ribbon upon her back — 
I cheered our boat till my face was red. 

As she stood away on the starboard tack. 

Thrashing, griping, eating her way. 

Right in the eye of the wind she looks 

204 



THE INTERNATIONAL YACHT RACE 

Ah, little you know of the scene that day, 
Who only *' go down to the sea " in books. 

With a thrill and a heave of the glistening hull, 
A bow and a flirt to the clutching gale, 

Alow and aloft all taut and full. 

And the water lipping the wet lee rail. 

Ready about! — there's a shiver of white, 

Like the shrug of a woman trim and gay. 
And before we know what's the matter quite 

With a kiss of the hand she spins away; 
Heading straight where the stake-boat's seen — 

She'll weather it, sure, if she holds her course — 
And now she's around, our own sea queen. 

Cheer, all hands, cheer! till you're weak and 
hoarse. 

And away and away on the homeward run. 

With the great club topsail bulging round, 
And away and away till the task is done, 

The spinaker spurring her every bound. 
A floating, flying, snow-white dome. 

Kissed and crowned by the gladsome sun. 
Her heaving breast in a smother of foam — 

A rush and a roar and the race is won. 



205 



IN HAVANA HARBOR 

NOT a sound was heard In the tropic night, 
Not a cry or a word of warning, 
Around the sea spread calm and bright 
And above the clear stars burning. 

Perfumed of the palm and of blossoms rare 
The breeze off shore came sweeping, 

While the Maine swung free at her moorings there 
And her gallant crew lay sleeping. 

Ah, sweet Is the hour when In sleep are wove 

The visions that fondly bind us 
To the dear old home and the land we love, 

And the friends we left behind us. 



Ah, true is the heart In a sailor's breast, 
O'er the wild seas boldly faring — 

" The bravest are ever the tenderest, 
The loving are the daring." 

206 



IN HAVANA HARBOR 

But now through the still and restful gloom 
Bursts forth that awful lightning, 

With the portents dire of the day of doom, 
Earth, sky, and ocean brightening; 

While the shuddering air recoils as when 

A mountain flames in thunder, 
And the stately ship and its valiant men 

Are phmged the deep waves under. 

Theirs not to hear the charging cheer 
As the foe rolled back before them, 

Theirs not to welcome victory near 
With Old Glory streaming o'er them. 

But never the praise of the sage and brave. 
Or the tribute of mourning beauty, 

Can better this legend above their grave — 
They died at the post of duty. 

Half mast the colors. Columbia's eyes 

Grow wet with a tender glory. 
And opening the pages that heroes prize, 

The book of her deathless story — 



207 



IN HAVANA HARBOR 

Here let their names, gold-lettered, stand 

A record of plain devotion, 
In line with the crew of the Cumberland 

And the men of the Constitution, 



208 



THE NAVAL ACADEMY PRACTICE 
CRUISE 

** Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabitJ' 

**T7I7HAT is the bugles blowin' for?" sez 
V V Seaman Brown aside, 

" To rouse 'em out, to rouse 'em out," the bosun's 
mate replied. 

'' What makes that younker look so white? " sez 
Seaman Brown aside. 

" His stummick has gone back on him," the bo- 
sun's mate replied. 

For the Indiana! s pitchin' — can't ye hear the 
dead march play? 

The cooks around the galley needn't cook much 
grub today, 

An' the surgeon will be busy with the sick 'uns in 
the bay, 
A-sailin' on the Practice Cruise to Europe. 

" What makes that middy breathe so hard? " sez 

Seaman Brown aside. 
" He's been below, he's been below," the bosun's 

mate replied. 

209 



NAVAL ACADEMY PRACTICE CRUISE 

"What makes that other look so tired?" sez 

Seaman Brown aside. 
" He's been aloft, he's been aloft," the bosun's 

mate replied. 
This ain't no Sunday picnic, so they drill 'em all 

around, 
From truck to keelson, fore an' aft, the've got to 

know the ground, 
An' salty little sailormen you'll see 'em, I'll be 

bound, 
Returnin' from the Practice Cruise to Europe. 



"What makes that feller's face so black?" sez 
Seaman Brown aside, 

" The engine room, the engine room," the bosun's 
mate replied. 

" An' yonder chap looks sorter dazed," sez Sea- 
man Brown aside. 

" The dynamos, the dynamos," the bosun's mate 
replied. 

They've done their bit, ye see, beside the engine's 
blanchin' heat. 

Or where the purrin' dynamos pursue their cease- 
less beat, 



2IO 



NAVAL ACADEMY PRACTICE CRUISE 

For sech are the requirements that the lads are 
called to meet 
An^ larn upon the Practice Cruise to Europe. 

" Who are those trim an* hardy chaps? " sez Sea- 
man Brown aside. 

** Our midshipmen, our midshipmen," the bosun's 
mate replied. 

" What makes 'em all so darned gay? " sez Sea- 
man Brown aside. 

** They're goln' on leave, they're goin' on leave," 
the bosun's mate replied. 

An' they wouldn't change with Daniels for the 
joys that He before — 

A sweetheart's winsome blushes — mother's wel- 
come at the door — 

An' the glory o' that story which in wlllln' ears 
they pour 
O' the wonders o' the Practice Cruise to Europe. 



211 



CHRISTMAS IN THE NAVY 

THE frown of war has vanished 
From off the ship today, 
And wrinkled care is banished 

While Christmas holds its sway; 
With flags and holly gleaming 

The decks are garnished bright, 
The guns in peace are dreaming 
And flecked with rosy light. 

Keen frost and breezes stinging 

May sweep the bitter east, 
But mirth and laughter ringing 

Shall crown our glorious feast; 
The ship's aglow, and humming 

With lightsome jest and word. 
When the boatswain pipes the coming 

Of Santa Claus on board. 



212 



THE OLD NAVY 

TiyTARION, Trenton, Tennessee, 
1 f-/ Nipsic, Kearsarge, Ossipee - 
Lo ! a phantom fleet appears 
Looming through the mist of years, 
Breasts of ebon, wings of snow, 
Dear old ships of long ago. 

Famous vessels were they then. 
Famous oflicers and men, 
Skilled at winning victories 
In the battle and the breeze, 
Loved by friend and feared by foe, 
Brave old ships of long ago. 

Battling here the billowy host 
Off our rock-bound northern coast, 
Gliding there In glassy calms. 
By some tufted Isle of palms. 
Snug above and sound below. 
Stanch old ships of long ago. 

213 



THE OLD NAVY 

Not a plank remains today 
Of the decks we trod so gay; 
Cold In death the lips whose tone 
Chimed in laughter to our own, 
Sunk where Lethe's waters flow, 
Lost old ships of long ago. 

Dreaming here, alone, tonight, 
I too feel the bane and blight 
Of corroding time, whose sway 
Draws us surely day by day 
To our berths in Rotten Row, 
Dear old ships of long ago. 



214 



" THE HEAVENLY TWINS " 

The jocular and affectionate nickname bestowed by the sail- 
ors on the Revs. W. H. I. Reaney and W. T. Helms, Catholic 
and Protestant chaplains, respectively, stationed at the Brooklyn 
Navy Yard, whose genial Christianity won for them the most 
endearing sentiments on the part of the enlisted men. 

TWO capital fellows! Brave, simple and 
kind, 
An honor to country and cloth, 
With the sunshine of truth lighting bosom and 
mind, 
Dame Nature's plain gentlemen, both. 
Beloved by the men, irrespective of creed, 

For merit that every heart wins, 
And man-o'-war Jack (with his usual knack) 
Has dubbed them — ** The Heavenly Twins." 

Aye, twins in their hatred of evil and shame, 

And aught that dishonors a man. 
Twins In upholding the Navy's good name 

And marching, eyes front, in the van, 
Twins in the mercy that falls as the dew 

To soften Jack's sorrows and sins, 
215 



" THE HEAVENLY TWINS " 

And for him allied, striking out side by side, 
You'll find them — " The Heavenly Twins." 

Protestant the one against folly and vice, 

The other Catholic In love. 
With the Cross and the Crown for their noble 
device — 

The Cross and the Crown and the Dove. 
And none may solicit their friendship in vain, 

Dutch, Irish, Swedes, Spanish or Finns 
In the shirt of a tar, at home or afar. 

Are the wards of " The Heavenly Twins. '' 

When stretched on a cot by the hand of disease 

And lost Is the song of the lark. 
When seeking In vain o'er life's desolate seas 

For the branch that brought joy to the ark, 
When reaping the harvest our folly hath sown, 

Oh, then — then their mission begins 
To heal and make whole both the body and soul, 

God bless them ! - — " The Heavenly Twins." 



216 



TOM BROWN 

Boatswain's Mate, U. S. Navy, Retired. 

POOR Tom — poor Tom ! he's gone at last 
And in the grave his anchor's cast. 
He struggled hard, 'mid doubts and fears, 
To finish up his thirty years 
And be retired, but 'twas too late — 
He dropped dead just outside the gate. 

Poor Tom ! A braver, handler tar 
Ne'er trod the decks o' man-o'-war, 
But thirty years sea-faring can 
Suck up the marrow In a man — 
Aye, thirty years o' fo'c'stle life 
Mangles a body like a knife. 

Through many a wild night-watch at sea 
Tom often told his hopes to m^ 
How If he lived to be retired 
(Presumptlous hope!) he then aspired, 
After the battle and the breeze. 
To spend his last few days at ease. 
217 



TOM BROWN 

And many a yarn old Tom would crack 

Of Rio and the yellow jack; 

His leg was crushed In Ninety-four 

In a typhoon off Singapore, 

And he was there that famous day 

With Dewey in Manila Bay. 

His cheek was tanned by every clime, 
The tropic blaze and arctic rime, 
A sea-dog of the cleanest breed 
That ever served a nation's need, 
Keen-fanged and stanch, till death appears 
Death and the doom of thirty years. 

In twenty years a pension fat 
Your firemen and policemen get 
For easy duty done at home — 
Tom's " beat " was on the ocean foam, 
From pole to pole, with flag unfurled. 
Guarding your homes against the world. 

Thirty long years of naval life. 
Apart from children, home and wife, 
Thirty long years to do and dare. 
Thirty long years of wear and tear. 
Till limbs were numb and head was gray, 
Thirty long years — up to the day I 
218 



NAVAL CRITICS 

A PAPER sheet and a flowing pen, 
A brain that wriggles fast, 
And rips the strongest armor plate. 

And breaks the gallant mast; 
And breaks the gallant mast, my boys, 

While, like the vulture free. 
We pick a ship to bits and leave 
Her carcass on the lea. 

Oh, for a sane, experienced mind 

I heard a true man cry; 
But give to me the sceptic's sneer 

And the yellow, jaundiced eye; 
The yellow, jaundiced eye, my boys, 

With the badge, '' Vox Populi "— 
Bureaus and fleet are then our " meat " 

And merry men are we. 

Deep rumblings through the daily press 
Roll from our thunder cloud. 

And hark ! around the Capitol 
The wind is piping loud; 
219 



NAVAL CRITICS 

The wind is piping loud, my boys, 
And taunts are flashing free — 

Our arm-chairs are the quarter-deck, 
Our ink-pots are the sea. 



220 



MANILA BAY 

YOUR hand, brave Jack! and make yourself 
all snug at home, my hearty. 
For know ye, here In old New York you own 
the right of way; 
The freedom of all hearts and homes, of every 
creed and party, 
Is welcome to the men who fought in famed 
Manila Bay. 

You won an island empire, and why should we 
not be thankful? 
You lifted all the nation by your gallantry that 
day. 
And, certes, that Is better than of gold the biggest 
bank- full 
That ever Spanish galleons bore from rich Ma- 
nila Bay. 

'Twas not alone a battle won, 'twas something far 
profounder — 
The Issues, hopes and mighty force your deeds 
brought Into play, 

221 



MANILA BAY 

You bade us take man's burden up and bravely 
burst asunder 
Our torpor by those flashing guns in far Manila 
Bay. 

We know your leanings, honest Jack, for " war, 
wine and woman," 
No anchorite — no cold saint you, made out of 
Paris clay, 
But big, full-blooded Yankee tars, impetuous, 
brave and human. 
Else we had sung a different song of proud Ma- 
nila Bay. 

A Roman triumph to the Chief! Promotion, 
honors, flattery 
To all the sturdy Captains who commanded in 
the fray. 
And generous favors of the crew who manned 
each vessel's battery 
Or gasped beside her roaring fires in old Ma- 
nila Bay. 



222 



THE MARINE AT PEKIN 

SOME months ago, a city tough 
He roistered, drank and swore, 
By all good people shaken off 

And banned his father's door. 
Today, where shot and shrapnel come, 

On Pekin's wall his place, 
A sentinel of Christendom 
And champion of his race. 

Poor, rude, foresworn of grace and wit, 

Of lowly name and birth, 
A heart of sterling Yankee grit 

Is all he has of worth. 
Hard knocks to take and hard to give 

When blood runs hot and high. 
And though he knows not how to live, 

He well knows how to die. 

Within the close Legation grounds 
Are wives and children fair, 
223 



THE MARINE AT PEKIN 

Distraught with battle's sights and sounds 

And menace everywhere. 
He has no saintly ethic code 

To nerve his eye and arm, 
He only swears that he'll " be blowed " ! 

E'er they meet hurt or harm. 

Hemmed In by withering flame and steel, 

Their steadfast guard he stands, 
Hardly to snatch a hasty meal 

The rifle leaves his hands; 
And oft In sore fatigue sunk down, 

There flits before his view 
Dream pictures of his native town 

And Mamie's eyes of blue. 

A few weeks hence he'll walk our streets, 

Back from the new Crusade, 
Alone, unknown to all he meets, 

No palm or cross displayed; 
But ne'er did Christian squire or knight 

By Richard led of old, 
More nobly stem the press of fight 

Or win the spurs of gold. 



224 



THE CORPS AT GUANTANAMO 



9rrK 



WAS walkin' down thro' Sands Street I 
smoked my last cigar, 
An' had a long, last drink o' beer before McKel- 

vey's bar. 
Then 'board the Panther in the Yard my way I 

quickly took, 
An' e'er the morn we dropped astern the lights o' 

Sandy Hook. 
So, farewell, Kate an' Mary, we may never meet 

again, 
Goodby, New York, the city o' our pleasure an' 

our pain; 
It's southward ho ! with a rumbelow, an' hurra for 

the Spanish Main! 
We're off with the Marines to fight for Cuba. 

We didn't pose or speechify or plan absurd cam- 
paigns. 

That ain't our style an' probably we haven't got 
the brains; 

225 



THE CORPS AT GUANTANAMO 

We lost no time with theories an' dodgin' round 

the mark, 
We med no muss, or raised no fuss, but buckled 

down to work. 
Our credit's short with Providence, hence we med 

no demand, 
But kept our grub an' cattridges an' quinine close 

to hand, 
An' when we struck the island it took just one hour 

to land 
Stores, guns and the Marines ashore in Cuba. 

Old " Semper Fiddles " to the front ! The Mau- 
sers snarled " G' way! " 
In spits o' flame. The Lees replied, " Nit I We 

have come to stay." 
An' stay we did, ringed round with fire that never 

knew no slack 
For six long days an' nights, until we druv the beg- 
gars back. 
An' when their firin' weakened we were on 'em 

with a rush. 
We swep' 'em off the hillsides an' we chased 'em 

thro' the brush. 
An' if ever any sojers earned their bloomin' beans 
and mush. 
It was the brave Marines who fought in Cuba. 
226 



THE CORPS AT GUANTANAMO 

Nor was this all, for elsewhere we were called to 
man the fleet, 

And work the rapld-firers in a manner most com- 
plete. 

To do our trick as sentries or in patrol boats to 
roam, 

Or grip an* cut the cables in a swash o' bloody- 
foam. 

An' we were there with Sampson when Cervera 
bruk away, 

An' we sent a cheer in answer to the Corps at 
Cavite, 

Who whooped it up with Montojo around Manila 
Bay, 
Like we did down at Santiago, Cuba. 

The first to land in Cuba, we I — jes' make a note 
o' that. 

The enterin' wedge that driven home laid Spain's 
dominion flat. 

The first to spread 01' Glory's folds upon the fet- 
tered air 

An' plant its staff deep in the earth an' guard it 
safely there, 

The first who, formed in battle-line, against the 
foeman stood, 

227 



THE CORPS AT GUANTANAMO 

The first to pour on Cuban soil their tithe o' val- 
iant blood, 

The vanguard o' the risen North that followed 
o'er the flood, 
Such were the Marines who served in Cuba. 



228 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 

I OFTEN think our split with Spain 
The happiest time I ever knew, 
Cruising over the Southern main 

With nothing to worry and little to do, 
rhe usual quarters and drill routine, 
A sail in the distance to overhaul, 
Satiric remarks on the ship's cuisine, 
And waiting a brush with the Dons — that's all. 

Cleaving the billows with sharp, spurred bow 

Our ponderous warship onward sped. 
Bending low her bosom In snow 

She buries from sight the lee cat-head, 
Fossing aloft a flurry pf spray 

As a charger champs at the bridle-rein, 
Wq double and cross each point and bay — 

Ah, pleasant the days of our war with Spain 1 

\nd then, in the wondrous tropic night, 

With tales of valor and ocean lore, 
We sat on the fo'c'stle, pipes alight, 

Or sung of the far-off Wabash shore, 
229 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 

Till lips half uttered the dear girFs name 
And eyes grew moist with a dream of love, 

While the stars like tremulous flowers of flame 
Swung soft and clear in the blue above. 

When bold Cervera dared at last 

Our rending fire of shot and shell, 
And withered before that khamsin blast, 

The drama ended, the curtain fell. 
And some won honors and high renown, 

But I, returned to my desk again. 
Won quite the prettiest girl in town 

As my award in the war with Spain. 



230 



THE U. S. INDIANA 

WHEN beauteous Aphrodite sprung 
From ocean's foam In all her glory, 
The waves in raptVous wonder hung, 

The winds were mute — so runs the story, 
And with new life and passion warmed, 

In siren tones as sweet as manna, 
The first word that the goddess formed 
Was 

INDIANA 



Aye, Indiana, famed afar 

For high emprise and deeds of mettle, 
Whose colors rushed, a blazing star, 

Vanward in Santiago's battle. 
Known and beloved through all the land, 

From mountain slope to green savannah. 
No name such interest doth command 

As 

INDIANA 



231 



THE U. S. INDIANA 

But now they say she*s growing old 

And obsolete, her power is waning; 
Yet, on the range, she still can hold 

Her own, new records ever gaining. 
While in each skilled aquatic feat — 

From Portsmouth southward to Havana 
She leads the whole Atlantic Fleet ! 

The 

INDIANA 



The prizes earned by skill and brawn, 
Trophy and cup and gleaming urn, 

Silver and gold as bright as dawn, 

Have brought the ship down by the stern ! 

Proud spoils of many a victory won 

Mid joyous throngs who cried, "Hosannal" 

With oar and sail, with glove and gun — 
The 

INDIANA 



And when the home-port's reached at last, 
With loving eyes and tender greeting 

Sweethearts and wives are gathering fast, 
" All journeys end in lovers' meeting," 
232 



THE U. S. INDIANA 

Then sweet reunion will prevail, 
And thou wilt be there too, alanna, 

Core of my heart ! with joy to hail 
The 

INDIANA 



233 



THE VOYAGE OF LIFE 

WHEN life was sweet and young, boys, 
And Hope was morning star, 
When true was every tongue, boys. 
And naught our faith could mar, 
'Twas ease the helm ! and spread, boys, 

The free and fearless sail, 
And blithe of heart and head, boys. 
We raced the singing gale. 

The world — the world was ours I boys, 

Where'er we chose to rove, 
Its golden fruits and flowers, boys. 

And all the lures of love. 
Out o'er the wrinkled blue, boys. 

Were Isles of Eden fair. 
And dragon tales were true, boys. 

And mermaids combed their hair. 

Now we are bent and old, boys. 

And life's rough cruise Is o'er. 
The sun In clouds Is rolled, boys. 

The wind blows chill off shore ; 
234 



THE VOYAGE OF LIFE 

All sail make snug and short, boys, 
And house the toppling mast, 

God grant we find in port, boys, 
A friendly berth at last. 



235 



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